


Before You Speak, Don't Move

by lavenderlilypad



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fraternities & Sororities, Innocent Harry, M/M, Original Character(s), University, but there's no tag for that, harry is a perfect angel child, let's just say louis is the exact opposite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:22:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29513847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlilypad/pseuds/lavenderlilypad
Summary: “We took Spanish together freshman year?  You’re also in my best friend Zayn’s fraternity and I say hi to you like, all the time.”Louis doesn’t look very much convinced even as Harry’s coming to stand in front of him, which one wouldthinkshould jog his memory.“Yes, but have we ever held an actual conversation,” Louis says, eyebrows knit together.  “I take classes with lots of people.”Harry is looking for a drastic change, and Louis offers him a deal he can't refuse.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 105





	Before You Speak, Don't Move

**Author's Note:**

> repost bc clearly im unstable

“The puppies need you!” Harry exclaims with a smile on his face, just as he’s shoving a flier and a cherry lollipop towards a student that walks by. Giving out candy along with fliers always gets people more interested in stopping to listen to you, Harry has come to discover.

He spends the next few moments happily telling the student in front of him (as well as two others that gather near to collect free lollipops) about the puppy fundraiser that’s happening tonight, excitedly enthusing them about the puppy auctions and the free petting and the fun activities they have arranged to raise money for the care and treatment of the puppies in their adoption facilities. It’s easily the Peace Committee event he’s been most excited for since the beginning of the year.

“Of course we’ll be there, Harry,” is what he’s being told once the students are making their way onward, Harry bouncing on the balls of his feet and already turning toward the booth they have set up in the center of all the campus activity, prepared to get more fliers and lollipops and scream at his club members about how _excited_ he is for tonight.

“The turnout tonight is gonna be _amazing_ , I just know it!” Harry says, beaming as he walks back up to the booth in order to stack more fliers in his hands.

“I have to say, your optimism _is_ infectious,” Liam replies, just barely trying at getting someone’s attention who passes by and giving up easily. 

Zayn seems to take a break from a pretty lengthy discussion he’d been having with some students who wanted to know more information on the fundraiser and the club in general, the boy finally coming back over to the bulk of the members with a sigh and setting two hands on one of Liam’s shoulders as he slumps into the boy, jean jacket draped off of him in an obnoxiously huge fashion.

“The question is, will I still have enough energy by tonight?” Zayn says, words slightly mumbled into Liam’s tee as his eyelids droop just a bit. “You know, with all the barking, and the joyous squealing, and the way we have to set up the gym…”

“How could you _say_ that?” Harry asks, making a double take at the boy just as he was about to go and ambush some students he remembers from his philosophy class last semester. “Tonight demands your _utmost_ enthusiasm, the _puppies_ demand your utmost—oh my god, _Hannah!”_ He spots the girl in the distance, one of his absolute _favorite_ girls carried on from when he was on the pom squad freshman year and had such a blast. He’s nearly knocking over other members of the club around the booth to get to her, _knowing_ she’d be a definite attendee tonight if he were to inform her about the event.

And it becomes clear that he was right about that as she’s enthusiastically letting him know she’ll be there whilst Harry’s holding her hands with glee, and then she’s rushing off to the class she has to get to and Harry is _already_ set with his mind on ambushing more people.

The perfect opportunity comes right when Harry sets his mind to it, and it comes in the form of the loud thud of wheels over the concrete ground of the student pathway, Harry turning his eyes toward it and finding Louis (a frat brother of Zayn’s that Harry somewhat knows) preparing to roll past their booth, performing jumping tricks on his board in the process and looking somewhat refreshing in the beanie he’s got over his untamed hair.

“ _Louis!”_ Harry says, already giddy in tone but quickly dimming out when Zayn’s intercepting him with a hand to his chest (where did the boy even _come_ from).

“I got it,” Zayn tells Harry, taking the flier and lollipop Harry had been prepared to give to Louis out of his hand, ignoring Harry’s pouty sigh. 

Zayn moves to approach Louis where he’s still several feet away toying at his skateboard with his feet, Harry still stood where he is and mildly vexed that Zayn _still_ does this.

He takes his frustration over to Liam, his hands falling by his sides where they’re full of fliers and lollipop sticks and his jaw just open enough to display his offense.

“Why does he still do that?” he asks Liam.

Liam had obviously watched the whole thing go down, the boy’s arms crossed over his chest as he even still watches Zayn and Louis now. Currently Zayn is (hopefully) informing Louis of tonight’s events and urging him to come.

“ _Because_ …” Liam begins, now turning to face Harry in front of him. “Louis is…he’s…” His face just twists only slightly, as though he’s trying to choose the proper words and is failing for some reason. “And _you’re_ …you’re just too innocent. The type of person _you_ are is best suited to stay far away from him.”

“I think you guys are just being dramatic,” Harry says with a roll of his eyes, far beyond tired of hearing these types of things from people. Things about how he’s this innocent, wide-eyed flower child who can’t be touched. He turns on his heel and crosses his arms just like Liam in order to watch Zayn and Louis, and it _looks_ like Zayn is doing a good job in keeping the boy’s attention. He’s even looking at the flier Zayn’d given him, scanning his eyes over the information attentively.

And then Louis is seen crumpling up the flier into a wad, and turning to place it into the cup of the next person that passes by. He simply takes the lid off of their plastic cup and places his wrinkled paper ball in it, with no regard for that student’s beverage. He doesn’t even pay any mind to the disapproving look he’s given afterward as he turns back to Zayn, taking the lollipop from the boy and then starting off on his skateboard with a kick of his foot—but _not_ before Zayn can shove another flier down the back of his shirt, which Louis wriggles at as he’s coasting his way through different groups of students.

Harry’s mouth has been involuntarily dropped since the action of Louis crumpling up the flier, but once he feels Liam’s eyes looking at him in an “I told you so” sort of manner in his peripheral, he blinks himself awake and still attempts to make a defense for the boy anyway.

“He probably, um—“ Harry begins, scratching at his chin. “He probably did that because he doesn’t want any paper cuts.”

“It’s because he’s a douchebag.”

Harry turns to Liam fully and abruptly, not even sure why he takes such offense to the guy’s blatant choice of harsh words. “Don’t _say_ that! I’m—I’m sure he’ll be there—“

“Well I know one person who’s _not_ coming,” comes the voice of Zayn, walking up to join them.

“You guys seriously need to lift your spirits a little,” Harry says, motioning with his hands and forcing both rows of teeth in a smile as Zayn goes over to hang off of his boyfriend again, arms low around Liam’s waist as he rests his chin on his shoulder. “Regardless of anything, tonight will be _fantastic_!”

And with that, he turns toward the passing body of students and instantly gets himself in the mode to enthuse potential fundraising attendees tonight, his face brightening up as he skips toward his next victim.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Not that Harry had any negative doubts, but tonight has gone _great_ , at least, in his opinion.

They’ve turned one of the campus gymnasiums into a convention of puppies and fundraising cakewalks and dunking games and puppy playgrounds and _so_ many people came out, and _so_ many puppies already have new homes and Harry could _not_ be happier!

The only thing that’s threatening to kill his joy is the fact that the night is supposed to be winding down soon, and in probably an hour he won’t be able to be snuggling a different puppy in his arms every other minute—he still can’t decide which ones are his favorite; the Beagles, the Retrievers, the Dachshunds, the Chihuahuas, they’re all just so darn _cute_.

He’s walking over to the low gate with the puppies where people are crouching down to pet at them, with intentions to set the wiener dog in his arms inside so that he can roam about with his friends like he probably wants to. He’s discouraged, however, when he only finds Shadow (his personal favorite—yes, he’s not supposed to name them, yes he did exactly that anyway) frolicking about the fake grass with the others. It immediately brings a pout upon Harry’s lips as he crouches down and fluffs his fingers though her dark fur, because although still young, she’s one of the puppies that’s been at the dog shelter the longest and Harry was really hoping for her to get a home tonight.

“My beautiful Shadow,” Harry says, nuzzling her nose as he scratches behind her ears, Shadow beginning to sniff up and down his face. “I swear as soon as I graduate, and have a stable job, I’m marching _right_ over to the shelter and making you mine.” He cuddles her head to his chest and absorbs her gentle little barks, even turning his obnoxious tone of voice on in order to ask her several times “ _Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl? You’re a good girl!”_

Things only start to go a little awry when the Terrier (that Harry _loves_ even though she tends to be a problem child sometimes) is uncooperative in joining the other puppies in order to be taken back to the shelter and instead does the reckless thing of scampering off, practically forcing Harry to go after her.

Chocolate is bad for dogs, period, but this little one in particular reacts horribly to even one lick of it, yet she is _obsessed_ with it—which is why it makes sense that Harry discovers she’s dashing towards the pool of chocolate they have set up that’d been used for a dunking game, leading Harry to actually have to _run_ for her. He can barely even register the people he’s moving past, which consists of mostly club members and dog shelter employees and a few scatterings of attendees who are getting ready to go home after the fun night. He just calls out to her vaguely ( _this_ is why he needs to name them) and offers everyone his “excuse me”’s.

Just when Harry’s thinking she couldn’t possibly get all the way up and into the full tub, she’s scampering up the seat next to it and jumping right off of it, directly headed for the body of chocolate liquid. It’s akin to a cinematic moment when Harry’s taking the long dive right into the pool in order to save Frisky (yes, between two seconds ago and now he has named her), feeling like quite the hero when he catches her in his arms and is holding her high over his head in the air, even though he’s messily immersed in the chocolate liquid. He’s aware several blinking eyes and laughing mouths have been moved by watching this whole thing go down, but he doesn’t concentrate on that as he’s ushering Frisky onto the ground outside of the pool whilst he hunches over the edge, urging her to go and join the rest of the puppies in getting a leash around her neck. It happens just in time as Ms. Ronald is rushing over with her leash too, ever-so-grateful for Harry with her kind words and _finally_ securing a hold of Frisky.

“Anytime, really,” Harry says in response to her never-ending grateful murmurs. “I just know how bad she flares up and I’d hate to see her like that.”

Ms. Ronald looks up at him with gentle, sparkling eyes as she finally has the leash secure around Frisky. “You’re an angel, Harry. If only everyone truly cared about them as much as you.”

Harry tries to keep the bashfulness off of his face as he wipes chocolate out of his eyes and finally gets out of the tub with one foot at a time, dripping everywhere and bearing outrageously draped, soggy clothes.

“Caring about things is cool, I always say,” Harry responds, his hair flopping over his face a bit. “I have to go and clean up though.”

He scurries off to do just that, fully aware he’s making chocolate shoe marks all throughout the gymnasium as he’s on the way towards one of the exits in order to find the bathroom. He spends a considerable amount of time using numerous towels to clean himself up just as much as he can before he can get back to his dorm building and take an actual shower. Even through the deep digging of chocolate out of his ear, and cold clothes sticking to himself, and towel burn he’s probably going to get from rubbing off on his skin so much, all he can do is smile and think about how delightful the fundraiser went.

When he’s coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his neck and already making a beeline for the double door entrance of the gymnasium he sees across the hallway in order to assist the Peace Committee in cleaning up and closing for the night, something peculiar stops him. Or some _one_ , more accurately.

It’s Louis. And he’s stood outside of one of the double doors that lead inside the gym, simply looking in through the tiny window that the door has on it, and he’s almost a mere shadow since most of the lights are out in the additional areas outside of the gym. He has his skateboard rested against the wall and upright, and he just seems to be…looking _._

Harry doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth, of course. “Louis?”

The boy turns to him, obviously because he’d been under the impression he was alone out in this hallway. He doesn’t look thrown or anything, just turns his eyes toward Harry with an eyebrow raised and leans his shoulder against the door in order to face him more properly.

“Do I know you?”

“Yeah!” Harry responds, a giggle tickling at his lips as he cleans out his ear a bit more with the towel around his shoulders, since it’s feeling a bit clogged. “We took Spanish together freshman year? You’re also in my best friend Zayn’s fraternity and I say hi to you like, all the time.” Louis doesn’t look very much convinced, even as Harry’s coming to stand in front of him, which one would _think_ should jog his memory.

“Yes, but have we ever held an actual conversation,” Louis says, eyebrows knit together. “I take classes with lots of people.”

“Oh…well,” Harry begins, shrugging and pursing his lips, joining his hands in front of himself out of a lack of better things to do with them. “I’m Harry. Just in case you didn’t know my name.”

Louis doesn’t say much else and just looks uninterested as he turns his eyes back toward the window slit in one of the double doors. Harry doesn’t even know _why_ he feels a sudden urge to make the conversation count, just so the boy can actually know who he is _and_ because this is the first time he’s made it all the way to him without Zayn or Liam intercepting him.

“I knew you’d come,” Harry adds, grinning lopsidedly and kicking at the ground with his right foot. “Zayn thought you wouldn’t, but I told him you might! I mean, _who_ could resist a night of petting all the puppies you could imagine?”

“Technically I didn’t come. It’s over now.”

Harry deflates a bit, because it’s sort of true, but he brightens immediately again. 

“ _Oh,_ I have a—“ Harry begins, reaching into the back pocket of his cargo pants for the small plush puppy toy he may still have in there, from when he’d won a prize earlier tonight. “I have _this_ one! It’s not the real thing but it’s soft and fuzzy!” Only when he’s holding it out to the boy (Louis once again not looking out the window anymore) does he realize it’s quite saturated in chocolate, naturally.

“It’s um…it’s a bit chocolatey though, but…” Harry begins, itching his nose with one hand as Louis just blinks down at it. “Still…chocolate puppy!”

These little quiet bouts of what _may_ be nervous laughter are falling out of Harry’s mouth as he holds it out to him, grinning at the boy expectantly and sort of anticipating the acceptance of the gift. To his right he can hear the sounds on the other side of the door indicating that his club members probably need him in order to get everything cleaned up and put away, but for some reason, standing here and enthusing Louis for no reason at all is of the utmost priority to him.

And it’s very much _worth_ it when Louis is reaching out for the puppy, actually curving his lips on one side a bit and warming Harry’s heart instantly. There are just some things _no one_ can resist smiling about. Zayn and Liam are wrong about him, obviously.

“You’ve got quite a mess of chocolate there, don’t you?” Louis asks, picking at the plush puppy with both hands and beginning to sway on his feet a bit.

“Yeah, but it was worth it to save an innocent puppy from an emergency trip to the vet,” Harry laughs. “I’m probably gonna have to be cleaning chocolate out of weird places for _days_ now.”

“Days, huh?”

“ _Days_. I actually have no idea how I’m gonna reach certain areas on my back,” Harry explains with a chuckle, fully turning around and reaching for the spots he knows he won’t successfully get to (he’s just a really expressive person). “Like it’s got my shirt _sticking_ to me right here.”

Louis can be seen stifling a bit of a snicker as he’s toying with the puppy still, except his eyes are trained on the hem of Harry’s shirt, probably observing the way the drenched stains are saturating his button-down and making it droop.

“I could help,” Louis replies, his voice a touch more gentle than it’s been. “I’m really good at chocolate on the body type of stuff.”

“It’s fine—I don’t even know how that would work anyway,” Harry laughs innocently, Louis’ eyes dancing back up to meet his. “And it’s way too much to ask of someone I just had my first conversation with.”

“Wow, this _is_ our first conversation.”

“It _sure_ is,” Harry replies, grinning from ear to ear as he joins his hands in front of himself again. “Crazy, I usually just occasionally see you around the frat house when I’m with Zayn, but then he always—um…” Harry begins, quickly catching himself and stammering a bit on his journey to disregarding what he was about to say. 

“He what?” Louis asks, even looking a bit amused as he’s rocking toward Harry some more with an eyebrow raised.

“I…” Harry begins, laughing nervously and tugging at his ear. “I have no idea what I was gonna say. Actually, I have, uh…I have _stuff_ I have to get back to inside anyway.” He already begins reaching for the handle in order to push the door open to the right of him, but it’s only a little bit unexpected when Louis is reaching for his forearm—not hastily, or forcefully or anything, just simply placing his contact there.

“C’mon, I wanna know,” Louis tells him, their eyes wholly locked and easy. “What was it about Zayn?”

Harry breathes a sigh of defeat as he lets his hand down from the door handle, figuring Louis deserves to know how his own supposed “brother” tries to instill other people with fear of even coming near him.

“He and Liam do it all the time, they try to keep me away from you. Because of something like…” Harry begins, knitting his eyebrows in frustration and messing with the sticky curls on the back of his head. “How you’ll ‘chew me up and spit me out’ is one thing I remember being said. I think it’s so stupid.”

Louis only responds in his slowly transforming facial expression, appearing as though he’s struggling to stifle a cheeky grin as he looks down at his puppy and shifts on his feet. It’s like he’s telling a joke to himself in his own head.

“I don’t get that vibe from you, though,” Harry continues after a while, voice much quieter. “I don’t get that from you at all. But maybe I’m hallucinating from all the chocolate that’s entered my brain through my ears, and I can’t see your devil horns.” He laughs wholeheartedly, making the shapes of the horns with his fingers by his head.

Louis actually let his grin fully _form_ in response to this, Harry inwardly delighted and feeling that this interaction is going rather swell.

“Although I’d love to stay here and talk to you all night, I _do_ have some cleaning up to do in there,” Harry says, reaching for the handle again, Louis peering in through the window again toward the gym.

“I can help,” Louis begins, just as Harry’s partially pushed open the door, still mostly turned towards the boy. “If you want.”

Harry can’t even contain the way his entire face lights up, his back now holding the door to the gymnasium pushed open and Louis tucking the cute little puppy under his arm whilst reaching down for his skateboard. 

“Really? You’ll be my clean up partner?”

“Whatever you call it, yeah,” Louis says, joining his hands together as Harry is already turning around in order to enter and get his mind set on tidying up the place since the wrestling team will be having practice in here bright and early tomorrow.

“ _Awesome!_ I was thinking I would start over here in this corner where they were holding the pie charity. It got _pretty_ wild _._ ”

And as Louis’ happily obliging with slow rolls on his skateboard alongside Harry where he kicks off of the ground, still having a cushy puppy held to himself whilst following Harry who skips with light feet and chocolate painting him in several places, Harry can’t even _begin_ to wonder why Liam and Zayn were so convinced he would’ve been better off staying away from him. Louis is _wonderful_.

Everyone who’s stayed behind to wrap things up for the night is spread out over the vast area of the gym, so it makes sense that Zayn doesn’t come across them until about half an hour later, when they’re wiping down tables thoroughly and the boy had been on the way toward one of the outside exits with a trash bag slung over his shoulder. Harry could’ve guessed he’d stop upon seeing them, and he did. He also didn’t utter a single word for several moments, where Harry just smiled at Zayn and then commented to Louis about how lemony-sweet the scent of the table is now.

“Louis. What the fuck are you doing here,” Zayn says tiredly, as though he even lacks the energy to deal with this.

“I’m satisfying my lemon disinfectant fetish so I can jack off to it later,” Louis replies easily, Harry instantly pausing where he’d been wiping down the surface of a table just to blink at the boy. “Fuck’s it look like I’m doing? I’m helping clean up.”

At this, of course, Harry giggles, because Louis is _funny_ too. He can’t believe he’d been missing out on his friendship all this time.

“You don’t even clean up in our _frat house_ ,” Zayn comments, taking one step towards the boy and letting the bag drag against the ground. 

“Well, things change.”

Zayn stands there for a moment, both Harry and Louis not paying much attention to him as they then work to get the items back on top of the table that they’d cleared off in order to wipe it down. Without even looking at him, Harry can sense the appearance of being “over it” that’s probably plastered all over his face right now. It’s no one’s fault though; Zayn has obviously been tired since this morning.

He eventually just continues on his journey toward the exit into the night in order to do what he’d intended on doing, and Harry figures that’s all that needed to be acknowledged about that.

But he discovers that isn’t the case when later on, when they’re finishing up and Harry is just checking in with things in every corner and area with other members of the committee, that the situation is brought up again. It comes in the form of Liam tugging at his arm in order to pull him aside right after Harry’s check-in with their corner of the gym to ensure that the mats are back in their places in the gym closets. Louis’ still over where he and Harry’d been working, slumped on the bleachers and scrolling through his phone with his skateboard at his feet.

“Yes?” Harry asks, only stumbling on his feet in reaction to Liam pulling him over, Zayn not too far as he stands behind the boy with his arms crossed.

“So I see you’ve met Louis.”

“Yes, I have,” Harry says with a grin. “And he’s not even half as bad as you guys made him seem.”

“Well, yeah, he probably _seems_ nice, but that’s because…” Liam begins, fading a bit to silence as he releases Harry’s arm, looking unsure about whether or not he wants to continue.

Harry just stands there a bit vexed, and also impatient, because at this point he just feels like the boys are making up reasons now. What is the _deal_?

“Listen, I know this may be too much for your cute little ears, but I’m just gonna say it,” Liam starts, now bringing up his hands in order to have a firm hold of Harry at both arms, their gazes secure within each other. “He wants to fuck you. He’s being nice to you because he wants to fuck you.”

Harry’s fairly sure his skin turns a faint shade of red in reaction to the words before he’s even processed much of them himself. Zayn, even where he is not too far behind Liam, is nodding wholeheartedly as though his boyfriend took the words right out of his mouth.

“Huh?” Harry asks after far too long a while, eyes widening just a bit and Liam still holding him.

“Harry, I’m pretty sure you know you’re not ugly,” Liam replies, finally releasing Harry and dropping his hands down to his sides. “The only time I’ve ever seen him be decent is when he’s trying to pull some prank—“ he counts off on one finger—“or when he wants to fuck someone.”

Only useless, elongated huffs are what Harry can formulate from his mouth in defiance, and he’s not sure if they’re in Louis’ honor or his own honor or because he doesn’t have anything better to say.

“I’m…” Harry begins, tucking some of his hair behind his ear and somehow flushing even more. “I’m not _fragile_ , Liam. I’m—I’m an _adult_ , so I don’t need _saving_ , from like—I can handle that _stuff_ —but even _still_ , I don’t think that’s why he’s being nice to me! We’ve just found friendship in each other, and that’s all that it is.”

“Sure,” Zayn can be heard mumbling from where he stands a few feet behind Liam, observing his shoes.

“Yes, _sure_ ,” Harry says, side-stepping Liam a bit in order to hurl his words more directly at Zayn. “You guys are just—just putting motives in his mouth. He hasn’t even hinted at _anything_ like that. So just put a _sock_ in it!”

It’s the last thing he’s huffing out before starting on his feet back toward where he and Louis were stationed—but not before turning to run back up to Zayn and give him a quick hug, however, muttering “I love you” in his ear just so that he knows this isn’t a serious fight and he _does_ love him—but after that, he _is_ starting away, intent to get back to Louis and finish up cleaning the confetti, as well as solidifying their newfound friendship.

Harry takes notice of Louis seeming to be fiddling at his skateboard with his feet, even as he’s sitting, somehow attempting to flip it over or kick it different ways, and the sight of it delights Harry as he walks up. He’s even more delighted when Louis loses a bit of control of the skateboard, and it ends up rolling right towards Harry, Harry having no choice but to stop it with the ball of his foot.

“This is so cool,” Harry comments, leaning down to grab a hold of the board, studying the intricately abstract designs on the back of it as he walks it over to the boy. “Like, the fact that you skate. It’s such a cool skill to be able to just _have_ , you know?”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, slumping himself back so he rests against the next row of bleachers.

“Totally, it’s _awesome_ ,” Harry tells him, coming over to sit right next to Louis, still holding the skateboard in his grasp for some reason instead of properly handing it to him as he brings one leg to tuck up under himself. “Like, if I could do something like this, or have like an extra little side hobby where I—“

He’s interrupted by the unexpected occurrence of Louis appearing to have fished up an unfinished and discarded bag of confetti from under the bleacher they’re sat upon, the boy having sprinkled it over Harry’s head in the midst of his mini monologue, immediately bringing Harry to giggle with glee and shake everything off of his face while going “Louis, stop it” even though he absolutely doesn’t mean it.

“I had an urge,” Louis tells him, a grin curvy upon his lips, as he brings his legs up to cross under his body neatly, his arms holding them up to himself. “But please, continue. Something about if you could have a cool side hobby?”

Harry’s unable to keep from still having a bit of a stifled chuckle as he’s holding the skateboard to himself and probably gripping it all wrong, Louis reaching out to pick a piece of confetti out of his hair as he goes back into voicing his thoughts.

“Sometimes I just feel like people, like… _view_ me a certain way,” Harry begins, the dimpled grin fading from his face the more he speaks. “So I get this _urge_ to do certain things I normally wouldn’t. To give people a shock. Sort of destroy this…” He gets lost a bit in thought, his eyes not even fully focused on Louis anymore, until he redirects himself, realizes who he’s talking to, and realizes what he’s talking about.

But when he’s coming back to earth, there Louis is, not looking put off by Harry’s inner turmoil. He’s just sat close where he is with patiently crossed legs, and blinking eyes that don’t move anywhere else. 

“Just the cutesy, easy-to-break…almost _spineless_ image everyone has of me kind of gets tiring sometimes,” Harry says with a shrug, his voice especially quiet as he slowly sets the skateboard down on the ground by his feet. “I just feel like everyone sees me as a…” He can’t quite pinpoint the word he’s looking for, his eyebrows drawing together in thought as his eyes blink around—and then land on the plush little toy that’s sitting in Louis’ lap front and center. 

“…a puppy,” he finishes, grinning briefly with a sad air. He can’t help the immediate urge to shield himself, bringing his legs up to the bleacher, his knees pointed to the air and brought in close to himself as he toys with his hair wildly in order to get it to cover his face. There's a miniscule twitch at his lips while he hears Louis’ soft chuckle. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Harry says, muffled through the waves of hair he’s hidden behind.

“I mean, you just said you hated being viewed as a puppy, and now you have your hair in front of your face like you’re made of fur.”

Harry’s shoulders actually shake with his laughter, the boy slowly carding his hair out of his face and back over his head, once again having a view of the nicely grinning boy in front of him, softening his insides in a way no stranger has in a while. 

“Sorry for springing my dumb insecurities on you,” Harry begins, shaking his head mostly at his own knees, before letting one of his legs down. “You probably wanna go home sometime this year—or _I_ actually _need_ to go home and stop being covered in chocolate while talking to you like a crazy person.”

“My offer to help you with that is still on the table, you know.”

“You’d have to invent some kind of magic cleaning machine,” Harry says with a crooked smile, gesturing at the mess of himself.

“Or I could just get in the shower with you.”

Harry’s wholly caught off guard with the way he blinks and processes Louis’ words, simply uttering a “hmm?”

“I just think it’s something you shouldn’t have to do alone,” is what Louis is saying, low in volume but close enough for Harry to hear clearly as the boy is lifting a finger in order to gently brush away a piece of confetti from Harry’s eyelash.

Harry doesn’t even know why it’s taking him so long to react in any distinct way. It’s probably because of how fast things are happening, especially when after the confetti is brushed away, Louis’ taking a hold of his chin with one hand and leaning his other hand over Harry and on the other side of his hip as he leans into him.

“Um—Louis, _Louis_ , I—” Harry begins speedily, speaking quickly and breathily as he leans backwards, both of his hands now behind himself on the surface of the bleachers, Louis’ lips only coming within a hair of his. Louis’ still profusely leaned over him though, but he pauses as his eyes are low and focused on Harry’s, hand still braced on the surface by Harry’s hip.

“I like you a lot and think you’re really cool but I don’t know you that well,” Harry says, voice endlessly quiet as they stay in this same close position, Louis’ hand now having traveled to brushing over his thigh with feather-like touches.

They remain in that same position for only a few seconds more, Harry feeling thoroughly flushed in the cheeks and also a little awkward as his hands scratch at the bleachers underneath him. He even feels a faint bit of a tingle at Louis’ hand against his thigh, the other one still tenderly placed on his chin.

“Seriously?” Louis asks after a moment.

Harry’s only a bit taken aback, not really understanding as he quirks up an eyebrow and continues keeping extremely close eye contact with Louis. “Um…yeah? I’m not really the type to—“

“I’m out of here, then,” Louis says, shaking his head tiredly and rolling his eyes as he moves back in order to get off of Harry.

“What?” Harry asks, still a little behind as he sits up slowly.

Louis doesn’t really say much else as he’s picking up his skateboard where it’d rolled away from them just a tad, Harry’s mouth uselessly parted and his mind still not fully understanding the turn of events.

He only uses his voice once again when Louis’ actually beginning to start away, seeming to prepare to roll off on his skateboard toward the exit. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Do me, and all of human kind a favor, Harry,” is what Louis’ saying once he’s granting him his attention again, one foot braced on the skateboard and his torso turned toward the boy. “Stop talking. Stop saying things. No one is as excited as you.”

And with that, he’s skating off, even as Harry’s sitting there with parted lips and a slightly clouded mind. It’s almost as though a huge part of him is struggling to believe that actually happened. He even just watches Louis coast over and then push himself right out of the exit door, his own eyes simply glazing over as he scratches at his own arm.

He’s not even sure how long he simply sits there, zoning out bit by bit and becoming just a little more sunken into himself. He only acknowledges that time has passed when a certain friend of his is coming into view slowly in his periphery, one hand in his jean jacket pocket.

“Sorry,” is all he says, head hanging low and Harry still not properly looking at him. Not “I told you so” or anything of the sort, because Zayn’s never been that kind of person. Harry still feels small to it in response though, which is why he stops toying with his fingers and just rises to his feet, headed straight toward the exit Louis had disappeared out of and ignoring Zayn’s presence.

He’s slow and stumbling a bit once he’s pushing out of the door and into the slightly chilled, dark night, because Louis is standing several feet ahead upon the sidewalk right before the street, leaned against the pole sign and seemingly waiting for one of the campus shuttle buses to come by. He doesn’t even react to the sound of the door shutting closed behind Harry.

“Louis?”

At this, the boy turns his head over his shoulder, then positions himself to face Harry as he twirls his skateboard against the concrete at the tip.

“What part of stop talking to me don’t you understand,” Louis says nonchalantly, Harry stopping where he is a few feet short of the boy and fumbling with his fingers as he’s feeling even more punctured than he already was.

“I just,” Harry begins, swallowing and looking more at the boy’s shoes than anything else. “I thought we were having fun. You were being really nice to me, and…”

Louis isn’t saying much of anything, and Harry’s not sure if he’s even preparing to, since his eyes aren’t properly focused up and at him.

Harry just struggles through the tiny lump in his throat and tries to continue, his fingers practically tangled together at this point.

“I vented to you about something I don’t really open up to people about. Not even Zayn,” Harry continues, eyes slowly filling with a full wetness. “So just, like…if you were only pretending to be super kind to me because you wanted… _that_ —then, like.” He huffs wholeheartedly, only a small tipping point from a cry as his eyes properly come up to Louis. “That would suck.”

Even though Louis’ just standing there and not saying anything, Harry’s growing more caved in on himself and his emotions. He thinks a part of it stems from the disbelief and blind hope he always carries around with him as a part of his core values and personality. It’s just a reality he’s not ready to accept right now, that Louis had been fake nice for such a stupid reason.

But as Louis continues to say absolutely nothing—not even a little mean quip or demand for Harry to leave him alone, Harry somehow feels even more sunken. It’s even taking everything in him to keep his bottom lip from quivering.

“I have a proposition,” Louis finally says, kicking his skateboard so that it jumps up, catching it in his grasp and tucking it under his arm.

Harry makes a faint hum of question as he looks directly at the boy again, watching Louis’ approach as the boy comes to step in front of him, no longer faintly illuminated by the pole and sidewalk light.

“You said you were tired of people treating you like a brittle little puppy, yeah?” Louis begins, poking one finger at Harry’s chest, bringing Harry to quickly nod and sniffle just a bit. “And I’m trying to soften my image up a bit, I guess…”

This quirks Harry’s interest, the boy wiping just the start of a tear away from his right eye as he responds to the boy. “You are?”

Louis moves to instead hold his skateboard in front of himself as he rocks on his feet again (which Harry’s weirdly already kind of obsessed with), nodding his head fully and looking far off for a moment.

“Yep,” he replies, pursing his lips for a moment. “The parents are thinking of pulling the financial support if I don’t get my act together, you know, make the grades, show a change of character, all that stupid stuff. Want me to be an honor student or some shit.”

“ _I’m_ an honor student,” Harry says, mood having rapidly switched into gleeful in half a second. 

Louis nods and only grins faintly in reaction to Harry’s face-splitting grin. “Exactly. Which is why we should date.”

And just like that, Harry’s mood is changed again, this time instilling him with feelings of puzzlement and unwavering confusion. It shows on his blank face and huge eyes as Louis cocks his head at him as though this information should be easy for him to understand.

“Like fake date,” Louis adds bluntly. “This way people can stop treating you like a baby, and I can look a little more redeemable with you by my side.”

Harry honestly doesn’t know what to say. His first instinct is to laugh at this whole thing and acknowledge that it’s ridiculous, but maybe that’s precisely the problem with him when it comes to things like this. It’s time for him to step out of his comfort zone a little, and take just a bit of a risky gamble on _something_. Louis is right, it probably _would_ give him tons of credibility in terms of being able to look after himself and take on certain things people would deem “dangerous” for him.

It even seems like Louis is reading his mind, taking notice of how his mind changes and he becomes on board with it. Not before long, the boy is holding out his hand toward Harry in order to shake on it.

Harry hesitantly reaches out his own hand in order to shake his, Louis’ lopsided grin growing even longer the instant their palms come in contact with each other. His hand is soft and warm, which is beside the point, but true.

“Monday, be in the student garden at noon,” Louis tells him, the both of them still shaking hands.

“I’m sorry, but I have class at noon—“

“Who cares? Are you _trying_ to change or not?” Louis replies with just a bit of a chuckle, releasing Harry’s hand and setting his skateboard back on the ground. 

Even though Harry wasn’t really planning on responding, Louis doesn’t wait around for it, starting back on the ground and kicking his foot off on the concrete in order to go sailing down the sidewalk. He even coasts right past the shuttle bus sign he’d been waiting by, probably now just opting to skate the entire way back to the frat house.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

He’s not here.

Fifteen minutes past noon and he _isn’t_ here.

And Harry’s also _not_ in his class. For what reason exactly? As much as he’s trying not to do the in character thing of freaking out about it, he sort of can’t help it, especially as he’s pacing back and forth upon the grass and continuously checking his phone for the time.

Like, his nineteenth century art class is going on right now and he’s _not_ in it. This is absolute madness. Maybe he’s not cut out for this life. He even has no idea how he’s supposed to catch up on the notes the next day he goes to class, because his values don’t include copying someone else’s notes; it’s just not the same.

If there were any chance he was just overreacting and too jittery for the occasion, he definitely begins to have good reason when it’s reaching a half hour past the time Louis told him to meet here. The student body is even swarming around him just as he would expect them to on a sunny day like this, right during the lunch rush. God, maybe he should just go late to his class at this point.

He tries to make himself look casual instead of frantic as he waves at and passively converses with the faces he knows as they move by him, but on the inside, he’s _really_ freaking out. What if Louis was just toying with him? What if Harry should’ve just listened to his friends about the boy all along?

He even politely gives Zayn a wave when the boy is moving past, just as Harry would expect him to at this exact time in order to get to the front of the sushi line and have his stuff made fresh. Zayn even doesn’t think much of it as well—that is, until his brain clicks on, and he’s walking back on his feet as he keeps one backpack strap nearly sliding off of his shoulder.

“Harry?” Zayn asks, looking a cross between confused and amused. “Not in class at this time? This is a first.”

“Yeah, I’m just,” Harry begins, looking completely unnatural in body language as he tries to disguise how jittery he is. “I’m just chilling, ya know. Didn’t really feel like it today.” He waves a lazy hand at nothing, Zayn’s eyebrows furrowing together as he hikes his backpack up.

“You sick or something?”

“No, but,” Harry begins, blowing a laugh-cough thing into his fist. “Now that you’re _here,_ I guess I should let you know that…” He scratches at his scalp a bit, Zayn patiently blinking at him and disregarding the rest of the student body moving past him and actually having places to be.

“I’m kind of…I’m in sort of a…” Harry begins, interlocking his fingers. “You know, when two people—“

“ _Hey!”_

It’s the exclamation from a random student in the nearby distance that cuts into his speaking, and it’s immediately followed by more yells of agitation and the shoving of students as it seems there’s something powering through the path of the student garden.

Once it comes into view, this trouble maker that’s responsible for poking through people’s feet and making people exclaim, it becomes clear that it’s Louis, making his grand entrance as he’s speeding through everything on a—is it a robot car? It’s tiny and it’s metal and it’s moving and it’s _fast_ , and he makes a couple power laps in the grass, creating dirt marks in the field as some people curse at him and some people cheer and whistle him on, and Harry has absolutely no idea what to think.

“Can’t wait to find out where he stole that from,” Zayn comments, folding his arms as they both watch the whole thing happen.

Harry fully expects it when Louis is swerving into a curve and coming right in front of Harry, screeching to a halt in between him and Zayn. It seems as though he doesn’t really have much control over how abruptly the thing moves.

“What do you want?” Zayn asks with a sigh.

“I didn’t come here for you,” Louis responds, one hand on the wheel, and the other hand reaching for his cap in order to rotate it so it sits backwards on his head. 

He swings his head languidly in order to look up at Harry now rather than Zayn, his grin small and devious on his lips and his eyes squinting a bit from the bright sun.

“I came for you,” he says, Harry’s dimples sprouting on either side of his cheeks. “Now hop in, beautiful.”

The way Zayn literally goes speechless is something Harry wants to capture a photo of and keep forever, but at the moment the best thing for him to do is exactly as he’s told. He finds himself trying to find some type of seat within this metal, pointy, crowded contraption of a thing, his backpack just barely squeezing in behind him.

“That’s sort of what I was trying to tell you,” Harry begins, now snuggled in close behind Louis and feeling heavy under Zayn’s disbelieving gaze. “Louis’ my boyfriend now.”

He finishes off his statement nicely by wrapping his arms around the boy’s middle from behind, letting his cheek tenderly mesh against the boy’s back as he breathes him in with a grin.

“You’ve gotta be kidding—“

“ _Louis!”_

The call of the boy’s name cuts in at much higher volume than anything else, Harry instantly turning his head toward it and stiffening his grip around the boy’s waist. All Louis does, however, is smash his foot on the pedal in order to get the thing moving, Harry now legitimately holding on for dear life.

“This is the part where we leave,” Louis tells him, once they’re racing through the grass and shoving through unsuspecting people and it _still_ sounds as though Louis’ being called after—by more than one person, it seems.

And this is _definitely_ proven true when Harry’s looking over his shoulder with the words “What are we _running_ from?” incredulously falling out of his mouth.

He gets his answer when he catches a glimpse of about three students he’s grown acquainted with from the engineering school, running and shoving through people as efficiently as they can as they chase Louis down.

“Did you _steal_ this?” Harry asks, turning back forward and speaking sternly over the boy’s shoulder.

Louis shrugs one shoulder, causing Harry’s chin to move with it as they’re accelerating way past the main areas of the campus and are now more on the outskirts, where there’s greenery and less population.

“Saw them making robots and I wanted one,” Louis says easily. “This is fun, right?”

Harry begs to differ, because if he knows anything, it’s that the engineering students _really_ value their creations and hate when they’re used as toys, but when Louis’ looping and pretty much drifting around a nearby tree and going at crazy, jerking speeds, Harry can’t really deny that this _is_ fun, although it comes in the form of joyous giggles out of his mouth as he clasps his hands together around Louis.

“You’re gonna give it back though, right?” Harry asks through laughter.

“Nope!”

Harry doesn’t know why his initial thought is to take it as a joke, because there’s no way Louis’ really just going to take this thing and never give it back. Clearly, there was a lot of time and effort put into making this thing.

But when there’s a body of river ahead on the outside of campus, and Louis is pretty much accelerating towards it without a touch of the break, Harry’s growing convinced the boy was actually serious. Not only is he not going to give it back, he’s going to _destroy_ it.

“Louis, _no_!” Harry says, not thinking and just _doing_ as he tries to reach forth for a hold of the steering wheel, even though Louis has two firm hands on either side.

“Harry, what the _fuck_!” Louis exclaims with exasperation, trying to swerve a totally opposite way while Harry is trying to force everything in another direction.

“You’re gonna ruin it!”

The begs and pleas from behind for Louis not to destroy their creation only pushes Harry to make sure this thing does not go racing into the river, and they soon find themselves in jerky, speedy circles and sharp turns as they both wrestle over the steering wheel and Louis yells curses into the air.

The mishandling of the steering wheel and the disregard for actually looking for what’s in front of them (especially Harry because of how Louis’ head is mostly in front of his face and blocking everything) leads to them not taking notice of a fairly large rock that they would’ve been smart to swerve around. This results in the contraption, of course, hitting the rock quite violently, tipping the thing over rapidly in a way that just about launches the both of them out of it, Harry not even being able to properly prepare for it before it happens.

A lot of his elbow had taken the fall and a bit of the roll after he’d gotten thrown out of it, and already, he’s thinking about icing it later on and treating himself to some herbal tea.

“You’re the _worst_!” comes the now emerging voice of one of the engineering guys who’ve finally caught up to them, whom he remembers to be named Donald. About four of them are currently bypassing the both of them and headed straight for the robot car, crouching down and inspecting it like a newborn baby.

Harry quickly sits up, straightening his clothes out and looking desperately towards the robot to see if it’s okay.

“It’s still in one piece, at least?” he comments, his shoulders rising and Louis being heard groaning beside him.

Or at least, it _looks_ like it’s in one piece. It might have a few dents. And scratches. And there’s even a piece that looks like it’s dangling and dragging against the ground when it shouldn’t be, but Harry doesn’t know for sure.

Donald does a mild double take where he’d been hunched over the robot, now looking as though he hadn’t even quite known Harry was there.

“I honestly expect this from Louis,” he begins, arms folding over himself. “But _you_ , Harry? C’mon, we made catapults together.”

Harry’s lips are parting, but he doesn’t really know what to say for himself. He feels bad. Why is he even doing this again? Why on earth would he want people to look at him in such a way?

“I’m the one that stole it,” comes Louis’ voice, just as the boy is helping Harry to his feet with both hands, Harry realizing he’d just been sitting on the ground uselessly. “Now why don’t you fuck off of him a bit, yeah?”

Donald and the rest of them stand there for a minute, mildly perplexed as they just blink between the two of them. Harry doesn’t even know why a trickle of tension is settling within him as Louis is behind him, holding onto his wrists gently with both hands and leaning into the backpack he has on.

“Harry. Blink twice if you need help,” Donald says, his tone far too serious.

Harry doesn’t do anything but laugh to mask his nerves, the boys gathering up their robot and preparing to make their way off, Harry offering a thousand more apologies and Louis letting them know that there’s a piece that’s dangling off that they probably need to fix.

Harry’s quick to whip himself around and face the boy once they’re alone again, their hand to wrist contact instantly becoming broken.

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry says, as sternly as he can muster (which isn’t very stern).

Despite why it should be obvious, Louis looks like he doesn’t understand the hostility as his eyebrows rise. “What?”

“Yes, I want a new image for myself, but I would love to leave out the part where I do cruel things to innocent people, Louis. I’m _friends_ with them!”

Louis steps back on his heel with an agitated look on his face, fixing his backwards cap a bit. “I bet you call everyone your friend.”

“That’s because I _am_ friends with everyone.”

“See, that’s your problem. You’re so quick to call everyone your friend and _treat_ everyone like your friend, and because of that, _you_ —“ a jab to Harry’s chest—“will always be viewed as nothing but a fairy who doesn’t have a single spine in his body.”

Harry just huffs in response, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders and guessing that maybe he’s right. He _loves_ having friends though. Even the thought that he still has friends in the future that he has yet to meet absolutely excites him.

“Listen, you agreed to this thing with me, and this is who I _am_ , alright?” Louis tells him, reaching up and pinching a good flesh of Harry’s cheek. “You either get all of me or none of me.”

Harry just nods noncommittally, holding his backpack straps and thinking perhaps he’ll deal with this for as long as it takes for people to genuinely see him as an actual _person_ with _edge_ and _complexity_ and _risk_.

“Would you hate me if I said I wanted to go to whatever portion of class I have left?” Harry asks.

“I mean, I will definitely laugh at you behind your back later,” Louis begins, Harry quickly dropping his jaw in offense. “But right _now_ , I’ll walk you.”

“Oh yeah, since like,” Harry begins, trying to disguise the slight way his voice goes frail once Louis is sliding a hand down his forearm in order for their fingers to interlock. “People have to actually _see_ us, for this to work.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m guessing that’s also why you had me meet you in the middle of everything at the busiest time of the day?”

“Also correct. Jesus, Zayn’s face was _golden!_ ” Louis replies, Harry grinning delightedly as they walk hand in hand, towards the main hub of the campus and in the direction of the arts building.

If Harry’s being honest, the turn of heads in their direction freaks him out just a bit. It’s like people aren’t even _trying_ to be subtle with it. Although this is sort of what he’d wanted, it faintly irks him, how invested in other people the students here are. Who people choose to date should be no one else’s business.

They reach the front steps of the arts building soon enough, Harry certain that Louis can feel just how much his palm is sweating, although he hasn’t commented on it yet.

“Thanks for walking me,” Harry tells him, coming to a stop in front of one of the double doors and facing him.

“Thanks for drenching my hand with sweat,” Louis replies, Harry instantly reddening and trying to retract his hand, which only results in Louis grabbing in order to keep a hold of his hand, grinning widely.

“I’m sorry—I just—“

“It’s okay. I find it cute,” Louis says, just a little less than a foot between both of them, although it’s quickly becoming smaller as Louis still holds onto their linked fingers and inches into him for something that can _only_ be a kiss.

Harry panics at the last second and tilts his face away so the boy is simply offered his cheek (he’s shy, okay). That’s exactly where Louis’ lips land, although Harry’s sure the boy wasn’t prepared for it since he’d gone in with his eyes closed. Even though it’s just a kiss on the cheek, it inflames that tiny part of Harry’s flesh and gives him a wave of frazzle, bringing him to give his hurried goodbye to Louis and turn towards the entrance of the building—he runs right into the door of course (and a bruise might show up on his forehead later), but _after_ that, he actually reaches for the handle, _opens_ it, and is making his way towards a class that doesn’t even have much time left in it.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Ten seconds!” Harry exclaims, practically jumping up and down on the side of the kitchen island opposite Niall, phone in his hand.

The few people in the kitchen and surrounding who’d also been keeping themselves entertained by watching Niall stack cups and then put them back together, hoot and holler with joy alongside him when Harry has shouted the time out loud after stopping the watch on his phone, because ten seconds is his new _record_.

He’s in what’s admittedly one of his favorite places on campus, the Pi Zeta frat house. All the guys here are just _nice_ and _always_ up for fun, and also his best friend, Zayn, is often here. He’s actually currently waiting for the boy to come downstairs so they can go to this drive-in movie they’d planned to attend tonight, and while waiting down here, he’d gotten side-tracked by Niall and his tendency to suck people into his weird and satisfying hidden talents.

“Okay, okay, try to beat ten seconds now,” Harry says, setting his phone back down on the counter and prepared to start the stopwatch again.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you’d rather stay down here and watch me stack cups, Harry,” Niall says, preparing the cups together again as he gets ready for another round of racing to stack them.

“What do you mean?” Harry tells him, elbow leaned on the counter and not understanding what Niall’s getting at.

“He means,” comes the voice of Jack, leaned into Harry’s ear as he sets a heavy hand on his shoulder. “We all heard about your new fling.”

Immediately, the kitchen is filled with the volume of “ _ooh_ ”-ing and obnoxious whistling, Harry now leaned over the counter with both elbows and stifling his inflamed cheeks into his chest for a moment.

“So tell us!” Patrick chimes in, _he_ now roughing up Harry’s shoulders as another set of hands tousles Harry’s hair. “How the fuck did it happen? How did _you_ turn Louis into a relationship man?”

“I…” Harry begins, shrugging one shoulder and chuckling for half a second. “It just happened…like, one of those things that just…becomes a _thing_ out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t happen with Louis,” Niall says, sounding unconvinced and dismissive as he slides the stack of cups back and forth on the surface of the kitchen island. “It had to be sex. That’s the only thing that could _possibly_ make Louis fall in love with a guy.” He laughs thoroughly through his words, the guys all around agreeing and Harry simply shrugging his shoulders meekly, not stomaching eye contact with anyone. “Harry, I didn’t even know you got _down_ like that.”

“What, did he sneak you over here late at night or something? Because I had no _idea_ this was going on,” Jack chimes in.

“ _No—_ I…” Harry begins, sort of wanting to change the topic right now. “It just happened. Why did we stop cup-stacking?”

And just like that, because Niall’s attention has always been known to easily switch upon command, he’s going “oh, right” and getting right back into it, Harry preparing his phone as a stopwatch yet again.

And everyone’s sucked into it again, joyously cheering him on and gathering around crowdedly for as long as it takes for anything to divert their attention, and by the time Zayn is emerging upon the upstairs balcony after coming out of his room, Niall has set a new record of _nine point_ _two_ seconds.

Zayn’s appearance is only brought along with the presence of Louis, because the boy seems to be dousing him with shaving cream and Zayn seems to be trying his best to dodge it and curse at the boy, wrestling the can out of his grasp. No one even turns their eyes up towards it, seeing as this is pretty much a normal occurrence at the house on any regular day. Harry’s always felt weirdly about it though; he hates how rough all the boys are with each other here.

“Louis, _quit_ it!” the boy says, dodging Louis as best he can and even somehow securing a hold over Louis and having the boy’s back bent over the railing to the upstairs balcony, which is what peaks Harry’s attention as he steps away from the kitchen island.

“ _Jesus_ , you guys, be careful!” Harry tells them, just as Louis’ shoving the boy away and claiming he’s no fun.

“Shaving cream is only for when I _haven’t_ just gotten myself together to go somewhere. You know that,” Zayn says over his shoulder as he’s trotting forth and down the stairs. “Now Harry, you ready?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies happily, on the balls of his sneakers as he holds his elbows behind his back. “And hi Louis!” He says it in a casual way, just as he usually has done whenever he’s seen the boy in passing, so he doesn’t quite register it when people are “ _ooh_ ”-ing and making teasy murmuring noises again. 

Oh yeah, Louis’ supposed to be his boyfriend.

It appears even _Louis_ is slow on everything too as he just leans his elbows against the upstairs railing and offers the boy a wave that’s barely there. They definitely aren’t being really careful and thoughtful about this whole fake relationship thing. Hell, they’ve hardly even seen each other since Louis walked him to class.

“Oh— _Louis_!” Harry adds, catching himself just as the boy was preparing to turn around and walk back towards his bedroom or something. Zayn is just now making his approach next to Harry, swimming in his bomber jacket and pausing in the midst of folding his collar out properly.

The way everyone seems to have subtly quieted down and given the interaction their undivided attention is something Harry swallows in response to. 

“You can…come too,” Harry says, not even having to speak that loud, since no one else is saying much of anything, and Louis is now just looking down at him with both hands braced on the railing. He quickly turns to Zayn beside him, raising a hand and speaking as casually as possible. “It can be a double-date sort of thing, and you can invite Liam!”

“Are you paying?” Louis asks, resulting in the spur of laughter from people around, and even a few cooing _awwws_.

“Of course, babe,” Harry says, Louis’ smile actually stretching into one with teeth, before he announces he’s going to go and grab his jacket.

“You’re cool with that, right?” Harry asks, turning to Zayn again, since the boy hasn’t really said anything.

“Sure, whatever,” the boy replies, now finally properly fixing his collar and rolling his eyes.

Harry’s getting the feeling that Zayn isn’t buying this. That he finds the possibility of Louis taking a liking to him and being in his corner so utterly _impossible._ Yes, Harry’s never had a boyfriend before, but it doesn’t mean he couldn’t _ever_ have one. Zayn's dubious nature is honestly offensive, in Harry’s opinion.

When Louis’ jogging his way downstairs (and even daringly jumping down all the way over five whole steps), Harry’s on board with the direction this night is headed. He’s caught a bit off guard when Louis’ coming up behind him and allowing himself a tiny squeeze of Harry’s butt (“c’mon babe”, Harry only gasps to it but quickly plays it off), but after _that_ , and after the cooing that they have to exit the frat house to, Harry’s feeling good about tonight.

Zayn even successfully gets Liam to come along too, which is _perfect_ , because Liam’s able to drive all of them in his truck, where there’s enough space for all of them in the front seat in order to watch the movie. Harry has no idea what movie is supposed to be playing, but he hopes it gives him and Louis ample opportunity to prove themselves as legit.

Once they’re parked and situated in the lawn amongst all the other cars with the moon only barely lighting things up, Harry becomes aware that the only genre of movie he _wouldn’t_ want to watch is exactly what’s being played; a horror movie. He just doesn’t like them. He doesn’t like being scared— _who_ likes being scared? He only enjoys things that bring him delight and happiness.

As Liam is in the driver’s seat, Zayn is next to him, Harry is next to Zayn, and Louis is comfy at the end, long ago having gotten a hand around Harry’s shoulder as they wait for the movie to start.

“Sorry for not looking up what movie was playing before inviting you out tonight,” Zayn tells him in the midst of Liam speaking to someone out of the window in order to buy an extra large bucket of popcorn. Zayn has his head turned towards Harry, languidly resting against the cushion of the seat.

“Why should you be sorry?” Louis says, his fingers toying with the fabric at the shoulder of Harry’s jacket.

“Harry hates scary movies,” Zayn replies, now sitting up in order to look over at Louis. “You didn’t know that?”

Harry opens his mouth to speak before Louis can. “Oh, we haven’t quite talked about stuff like that yet.” The rest of his defense is cut short when Louis’ bringing his hand up to Harry’s chin in order to bring the boy to face him, Harry suddenly finding his eyes within close range of Louis’ dark ones.

“You don’t like scary movies?” Louis asks, almost as though this offends him.

“No, they frighten me,” Harry replies, his voice small. “How could you _like_ them?”

“Because of the _rush_ of jumping out of your seat,” Louis says, uncharacteristically passionate. “Are you not obsessed with that chest feeling? God, you must hate roller coasters.” He slumps his head on his fist as he rests his elbow on the armrest, Harry actually pleased that he seems to have some actual feelings about this.

“Babe, are you getting fired up?” Harry asks with a grin poking at his lips, rubbing up and down the boy’s chest.

“No, I just can’t believe I’m boyfriends with such a loser,” Louis says dismissively, Harry fittingly dropping his mouth open. Louis picks himself up quicker than Harry would’ve expected, turning back toward Harry and leaning into him with a nuzzle against the boy’s nose. “A loser boyfriend that I _love_.”

“We need to work on your compliments, don’t we?” Harry asks, pushing his nose against the boy’s once more.

“We’ve got time,” Louis says, murmuring sweetly right back, and Harry not even having to turn to feel the eyes of Liam and Zayn on the other side of him, probably just watching wordlessly.

Eventually, he does succumb to the call of their glaring eyes, both Zayn and Liam sitting there without much words.

“Hi,” he says meekly, grinning and fluttering his hand at them, Louis pulling him in by the shoulder more snugly.

“Well, I’ve gotta say. This is an… _unlikely_ pairing,” Liam starts, before reaching into the bucket for some popcorn. “But we’re happy you guys found each other nonetheless.”

“Yeah,” Zayn adds, although it comes a second too long after Liam’s statement, before he leans to rest his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “How _did_ you guys start properly dating again?”

Harry _would_ do the smart thing of shrugging it off like he did with the frat boys earlier, but he’s smart enough to know that Zayn’s going to listen _very_ closely to whether or not he answers the question, even if he’s going to pose himself as though he’s not really caring.

“Oh, we—“ Harry begins, turning back toward the boy for direction. “After we hung out that night we just got to know each other more…and, he asked me out on a date—“

“A _date_?’ Zayn asks, almost laughably.

“ _Yes_ ,” Louis adds, a bit sternly as he hugs Harry tighter, Harry getting the message that that probably wasn’t a smart thing to say. “I just knew there was this… _something_ about him. Something that stands out from all the others. Took him out for some Italian and asked him to be mine by the end of the night.”

“Awww, _babe_ ,” Harry says, reaching up to cradle the boy’s face.

“Yeah, something that stands out from the five guys per month you hook up with,” Zayn mutters under his breath, although it’s extremely loud enough for everyone to hear. “Also, how many times are you gonna call each other ‘babe’?”

“Zayn, c’mon, be supportive,” Liam tells him, placing a hand in the boy’s hair and carding his fingers through it as the boy continues to lay his head there.

Zayn seems as though he opens his mouth to protest, but at the same time, the lights that border the field the cars are parked in dim out, and it seems the movie is getting ready to start as people go silent within their cars. So Zayn just discards his argument and lets his head drift back down to Liam’s shoulder, sticking his hand in the bucket for popcorn.

Harry’s grateful that the concession people make their way around with something he actually _likes_ (sour candy—he’s a child at heart), and he’s practically jumping out of his seat to buy some after Louis’ let his window down in response to Harry’s persistent tapping at him.

Despite how unenthusiastic Louis seemed initially, the both of them end up enjoying the long straws of sour candy, Harry trying his best to tough it out through this horror movie that includes _way_ too many dead silent scenes.

He doesn’t end up toughing it out though—there are actually a _high_ number of instances where Harry’s cowering in Louis’ shoulder, and burying his face in Louis’ hair, and probably bringing about faint bruises on his skin from how tightly he now has his arms wrapped around the boy’s shoulders, pretty much fully positioned to face him.

“Nothing even _happened_ at that part,” Louis says, his voice hushed but still sharp and agitated.

Harry’s got half a sour straw that he’s chewing on hanging out of his mouth when he replies. “I _thought_ something was going to.”

“Maybe you should just give up on trying to watch it, babe,” Louis tells him, head now resting in Harry’s direction as all Harry can see is the shine and shadow of miniscule features on his face. Louis’ attention seems averted just a bit, his eyes low and gazed upon the candy hanging out of Harry’s mouth, Harry’s chewing slowing down to a more mechanical state. “Can I have some?”

Harry’s already reaching his hand down for the bag, but _Louis’_ leaning forth and catching the other side of the straw in between his teeth. There wasn’t very much of it left to begin with, so Harry finds himself tugged forward with his teeth still holding the other side of the candy before he can really think about it.

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry giggles, dodging the boy’s smooch at just the last second where their lips would’ve landed together.

“I mean, if we’re not watching the movie, we shouldn’t be doing _nothing_ ,” the boy tells him, Harry’s face now bashfully buried in the crook of his shoulder and Louis’ hand growing more snug up around his waist.

“You know we’re still in here, right?” comes the voice of Zayn, just as Harry’s letting out an involuntary squeal in response to Louis scooping him up just slightly so that Harrry has a comfy seat in his lap. Harry’s still mostly faced to watch the movie, but now propped on top of Louis. Harry honestly doesn’t know at the moment whether this is him playing it up in order to seem like the real deal to Liam and Zayn. Harry’s on board with being extra tonight for the sake of being believed, but it still doesn’t stop the natural way he grows flustered being so close to Louis and on top of him like this, arms wrapped around his shoulders and the side of his head pressed against the boy’s.

“That’s what makes it more exciting,” Louis replies.

Harry pretty much takes Louis’ advice and spends the rest of the movie date with his face tucked in Louis’ crook or behind his head, and he’s more so almost intensely focused on Louis’ languidly moving hand, the way it’s grown so comfortable on his hip. The only reason he opens his mouth at any point before the movie ends is because Louis’ fingertips start to graze the bare skin underneath his shirt (“um Louis, your hand is kind of…wandering”).

When the movie is over, and the screams in the different cars have faded as a result of the climax scenes, Harry feels like he’s finally releasing a breath. He picks his head up from the boy, the screen far up front going black and bringing his attention to how pretty the sky looks tonight.

“Oh my _God!”_ Harry says, not being in control of his joy upon catching a glimpse of the stunning full moon.

Louis had flinched, however, but Harry hadn’t paid much attention to it as he scrambled to brace his elbows against the dashboard at the front of the car to look at it more closely.

“And you screamed _because_?”

The answer is coming out of Zayn’s mouth about half a second before it’s coming out of Harry’s. “Because the moon.”

“Because the _moon_!” Harry says, eyes sparkling up as cars are preparing to pull away in his peripheral. “It’s so pretty tonight, isn’t it?”

“Of course, Harry,” Zayn tells him. “Funny thing though, _I_ knew that’s exactly what you were all giddy about, but _Louis_ didn’t. Which is why I’m going to have to ask if you guys could cut the bullshit now.”

This pulls Harry’s attention away from the sky up above, sinking back into the car and into the cushion of the front seat as he blinks confusedly at Zayn.

Liam’s overly giggly nature is something that’s also prodding at Harry too, as though the boy just can’t even hold it in.

“I’m sorry, but,” Liam begins. “I can’t ignore it anymore. You guys aren’t actually dating. What is this, a prank or something?” He doesn’t sound accusatory in tone, just more amused and feathery than anything.

“We _are_ dating!” Harry says defensively. “What…why would I—do you really think I would stoop so low as to _make_ something like this up? That would be quite pathetic of me, Zayn.”

“I don’t know. Maybe there’s some kind of point you're trying to make,” Zayn starts. “C’mon you probably don’t even know his last name.”

“I don’t have to prove myself to anyone, and I don’t have to sit through this,” Harry snaps, turning to his right toward Louis and grabbing his hand. “Babe, let’s get some fresh air.”

They’re stumbling outside into the cool atmosphere after not much longer, Harry shutting the door behind himself and Louis seeming quite unfazed by the whole thing.

“What do we do?” Harry asks frantically, back pressed against the passenger door so Liam and Zayn couldn’t possibly see the freak out on his face.

“I mean it was going pretty well at first,” Louis begins, scratching at one of his elbows and furrowing his brows. “But how the fuck am I supposed to know that you scream at the moon like a maniac?”

“I don’t scream at the moon like a _maniac_ ,” Harry fires back with a huff. “The moon _happens_ to be one of the most divine creations of the universe and shaped perfectly in order for us to _enjoy_ it all the way from here—“

He’s caught off guard when the collar of his jacket is being gripped, which is rapidly followed by lips meshing right in between his, his rant turning to mush and his eyebrows shooting sky high, even as his eyes close. It’s a thorough kiss, their lips clinging with each other tightly and Harry even faintly stumbling forward on his feet once it’s through.

“Hm?” is the only sound that comes out of Harry’s mouth, his eyebrow raised, and his eyes still closed as Louis continues to hold onto his collar.

“They’re watching us _really_ closely right now,” Louis breathes lowly, his forehead grazing Harry. “Let’s give them something they can’t argue with.”

He’s toying with the material of Harry’s collar some more and inching himself back in, Harry allowing it when their lips slot in with each other again, much more gentle this time as he’s slowly walked to rest with his back against the car.

It’s strange, kissing Louis. Because although he comes off (or attempts to come off) as this somewhat belligerent, impatient little one, his lips are pretty…tender. And inviting and fluffy, and they make Harry feel just a bit like he’s floating as he’s slipping out of this reality where they’re kissing to make their relationship seem real, and into more of one where he’s just kissing somebody, and really enjoying kissing somebody, especially when that somebody is running hands through his mess of hair strands and just barely tilting his head before latching onto his lips again.

“You’re not bad,” Louis murmurs against his lips, the cheeky grin being heard in his tone.

Harry’s just now realizing he’s done absolutely nothing with his hands as they just curl at his sides. “Yeah. I mean—thanks…I—“

The sound of the driver’s door opening cuts into everything, bringing Harry back into the reality of it all.

“Try not to get too publicly indecent, you guys,” Liam teases, Harry not even turning around to properly look at him as Louis’ now intertwining their fingers at both hands and lifting them up in the air cutely.

“Honestly, I need to get this one home,” Louis says, rocking forth so that his face is close to Harry’s again, his eyes unable to remove themselves from Harry’s lips. “Forgot how much it turns me on when he’s heated.” He’s letting go of one of Harry’s hands in order to reach for the waistline of his pants and just tug him closer, Harry flustered in many ways and not even knowing how to keep his flush at bay.

“Okay then,” Liam is heard saying, followed by the sound of him getting back in the car.

Harry speaks well after Liam’s back inside, and Louis’ still got fingers barely hooked inside the waistline of his pants, Harry feeling tingly in that very spot where the skin contact is being made.

“You’re…you’re, um,” Harry begins, scratching behind his ear as Louis’ getting a nose up under his jaw. “You’re really committed to this.”

“Why wouldn’t I be,” Louis murmurs, the movement of his lips tickling Harry’s skin.

He’s bringing up two hands to hold Harry on either side of his jaw, going in for another wholesome peck that Harry’s barely able to participate in, before pressing his forehead against the boy and speaking through a crooked grin.

“Now let’s go home,” he whispers, right before reaching for the door handle on the car.

Going home (or dropping them off at Harry’s dorm building) is exactly what ensues, tension sort of feeling high in the car since no one’s actually saying anything. Harry’s pretty sure that Zayn just doesn’t _have_ anything to say now that they’ve actually _kissed_. And he’d guess that Liam is just stunned. Liam _is_ the only one to say _anything_ though, about ten minutes into the ride (“I believe you guys now, by the way”). Zayn even looks kind of peeved. But this was honestly Harry’s goal. People need to feel _things_ in reaction to this change of Harry’s character.

When they’re being let out and Louis’ bending down with his hands over his knees and offering Harry a ride on his back, Harry’s hopping up onto the boy happily and bidding Liam and Zayn a polite goodnight, Zayn barely waving through the open window, and Liam telling them to try not to get into too much trouble.

Louis’ letting Harry down once they’ve made it up the steps and right near the doors to his dorm building, immediately getting a hold of the boy and Harry finding himself being walked into the wall by the entrance.

“I will make _sure_ he’s well behaved,” Louis’ telling the man over his shoulder, although Liam’s already driven off by now.

Harry somehow finds the both of his wrists held against the glass windows outside of the building, his own laughter dying down and Louis advancing into him without giving Harry much of a warning.

“I thought…” Harry begins, just a bit breathless from revelry and the amazing piggyback ride, Louis’ warm breath tickling his bottom lip, although the boy is now paused and looking up into his eyes with heavy lids. “I thought that was just for show. They’re gone now.”

“Yeah, but like,” Louis begins, slowly releasing Harry’s hold against the windows—but instead curving arms around his lower waist and hitching him up into the air so that he’s up high a bit, Louis squeezing himself in against him so that he stays put. “I figure, like…why _not_ have some fun in the middle of all this, you know?”

Harry makes a nervous sound that’s supposed to be a laugh, his front pressed dangerously snug with Louis’ as his toes are just hanging a hair above the ground casually, Louis not seeming to put much effort into having him hoisted like this. People can most definitely see them as they’re walking past into and out of the building right now, and probably even from inside the dorm lobby too.

Louis seems to sense the silent befuddlement in Harry’s nature, softening his hold on him just a bit so Harry’s feet settle properly on the ground. “Unless, of course. You don’t want to.”

Harry doesn’t know why it’s taking him quite so long to conjure up words, probably because their crotches are still warm against each other. “I…I already told you how cool you are, and I really like you—“

“I just find you so _hot_ , Harry,” Louis’ breathing, taking his place back up under Harry’s jaw and chin as he breathes him in. One of his hands is wandering up the length of Harry’s back, caressing the boy to himself more fully and allowing Harry to feel stubble along the skin of his neck. “Like, holy shit. Can’t believe _this_ was right under me and I never took a hold of it.”

This encourages Harry to speak up more clearly, getting his hand settled into Louis’ hair in order to pry the boy away from his skin.

“You’re making me sound like a piece of meat.”

Louis pauses, the both of them met at the eyes again, and Harry trying with his gaze to come off as stern and impenetrable, while Louis is looking a bit contemplative. As though weighing out the ways he could _still_ get this to actually happen.

So when he’s stepping back and creating a whole two feet of space between them, his hands up on either side of himself, it’s a little unexpected.

“Fine, I will stop,” Louis says, Harry straightening out his disheveled clothes. “But where am I supposed to go now?”

“Whatd’you mean?”

“Zayn‘s under the impression that we’re both sleeping over here. He’ll know something’s fishy if I just end up back at the frat house.”

“Ugh, you guys _do_ both live at that place,” Harry begins, feeling tired and pressing his palm against his forehead. “I mean, I _would_ say you could come inside my room, but it’s past visiting hours and we’re not allowed to have overnight—“

“Your dorm it is, then!” Louis exclaims, making Harry to stumble right along once he grabs a hold of his hand and strides toward the entrance door.

“But—“

“Wow they’ve really spiced things up in here since I last lived in dorms,” Louis says, walking through the velvet couches in the lobby, Harry’s hand still held in his. “Are you to the right hallway or the left?”

Harry’s aware of the front desk assistant watching them closely to see whether or not they’re going to stop and check in with her, but he answers anyway. “The left, but I don’t see how you’re going to—“

“Sir,” comes the voice of the female desk assistant, right on time as they’re venturing down the hallway toward the elevators. Her utter of the word “sir” comes twice more as they’re walking further down the hall, and Louis is pressing the button on the elevator without a care as he asks Harry what floor he’s on.

“I used to sneak people in here all the time,” Louis tells him, stepping into the elevator and taking notice of Harry’s incredulous facial expression. “They’re not allowed to chase you down or anything. They just really hate when you do it.”

“I really love our front desk lady though,” Harry says, frowning a bit as he leans his back against the wall of the elevator, his right hand still joined with Louis’ left. “I don’t want her to hate me.”

“What, is she your _friend?”_ Louis asks, drawing out the word for a while in a sing-songy tone, just as the elevator is opening and he’s pulling him along to exit.

“Shut up,” Harry mutters, taking the lead in their walk in order to bring them to the proper room. “Also, did you really think you couldn’t come to my room just because we weren’t having, like…sex?”

“I mean, yeah,” Louis says, close next to Harry as Harry’s toying with sliding in his room key that _never_ works the first time. “Why else do people spend the night together?”

“Are you seriously asking me why two people who are _friends_ would spend the night together?” Harry asks, finally entering his room. Louis is making a beeline for his rolling desk chair in order to crash himself in it and wheel it around. 

“As though homemade face masks don’t exist, as though board games don’t exist? Have you never heard of a sleepover?” Harry asks, just a little too passionate as he’s shrugging off his jacket.

“Yeah, when I was like, twelve,” Louis responds, digging into his pocket as he continues to kick off of the ground and roll around the carpeted surface of Harry’s floor. “Can I smoke in here?”

Harry’s working on kicking his shoes off of his feet as he’s sitting himself down at the edge of the bed, his eyebrows immediately furrowing at Louis. “I don’t think so?”

“Actually, I don’t even know why I asked, ‘cause I’m gonna do it anyway,” Louis says, an easy chuckle muttered around the joint he’s now brought to his lips, tiny lighter upon the end of it as Harry just huffs and gets up to his feet in order to go and open the windows so that his room won’t be filled with smoke.

“What’s your deal, anyway?” Louis is heard asking, Harry struggling with the second window that’s hard to budge, even as he grunts at it (which doesn’t actually help anything).

“What?” Harry asks, exasperated as he’s slowly getting the window to slide up.

“Like, I don’t even have to ask, but I can tell you don’t smoke or drink or have fun or even step on a crack.”

Harry’s brows are hardened once he forces himself to be satisfied with the barely open second window, walking back over to his bed and sitting with one of his legs tucked up under himself.

“I _do_ have fun. Maybe those things just aren’t in my definition of fun.”

Louis’ rotating himself around so that he’s facing Harry, profusely slumped in the desk chair and slightly lower than where Harry sits on the bed, taking a drag out of his joint for a long second where his cheeks hollow out. “What _is_ in your definition of fun?”

Immediately, Harry’s eyes light up as he thinks about it, not even knowing where to start. “Laser tag, surprising people with gifts, sniffing fresh _flowers_ —“ his finger extends in the air as additional things come to him—“ _go kart racing,_ amusement parks! Saving animals—saving the _planet_ —“

He’s noticed Louis’ growing bundle of laughter around his joint as he’d begun speaking, but this doesn’t really deter Harry from naming the things he finds fun as they come to him, because truthfully, there are a _lot_ of things he finds fun. Louis’ only speaking up after Harry’s gotten all the way to “making gingerbread houses”.

“Do you curse?” Louis asks bluntly, now tucking the joint behind his ear that he’s seemed to have gotten enough of. “Like, let a ‘fuck’ or a ‘shit’ fly out of your mouth every once in a while?”

The question throws Harry for a loop just a bit as he plays with his fuzzy sock where it’s tucked underneath him.

“I figure we should know each other and stuff,” Louis adds, rotating uselessly in the chair he’s slumped in. “So the stupid mistakes we made tonight won’t happen again.”

Harry lets a tiny grin form on one corner of his lips, taking one of the several ponytail holders he usually keeps on his wrist in preparation to keep his hair out of his face for the night. “I guess that makes sense,” he begins, securing half of his hair up into a unkempt bun that sits up there uselessly, before crawling towards his pillow in order to get his sleep mask from up under it. “And no. I don’t.”

“You’re kidding,” Louis replies, looking almost disbelieving. “Are you even a real person? How do you exist?”

“I just don’t feel the need to use them,” Harry says, feeling attacked as he gets his sleeping mask over his head and resting around his neck. “Is that such a crime?”

“ _Yes_ , Harry, you’re well into college.”

Harry lets the words wash off of his shoulder as he’s heading toward the sink in the corner of his room, letting Louis talk all he wants as he gets ready for the night just as he would on any other day.

“So?”

“ _So_ ,” Louis begins, Harry now having the faucet running and gracing his toothbrush with toothpaste. “By now, you should’ve had _something—_ some absolutely infuriating experience that’s made you just _snap_ and let out a dirty word.”

“Haven’t had that yet,” Harry responds, although it sounds almost unintelligible now that he’s actually brushing his teeth. “Completely fine if other people express themselves like that, though.” He rinses out his mouth for a second, bringing water up to his lips and spitting it out as the sound of Louis sparking the lighter again is heard behind him. “Which you do a lot. Quite colorfully.”

“It’s my favorite pastime.”

Harry’s just shaking his head once he’s dried his mouth off with a small towel by the sink, now moving over to the calendar above his bed, getting on his knees upon the mattress in order to ‘x’ out another day on it. He also takes a mental note of how his English project is due on Friday, along with the fact that he should bake a pie for the honor picnic by Saturday. He even doesn’t pay any mind to the sound of Louis getting up from the desk chair somewhere behind him, although the boy is obviously making his approach.

It’s hard to continue ignoring the boy however, when Harry’s putting the cap back on the marker and hanging it in its place upon the calendar, before turning toward the boy and finding him rather close, stood next to the bed and with his thighs leaned against the edge as he’s next to Harry. Front and center though is this partially lit joint of his (that does not have the best _smell_ by the way), the boy holding it in front of Harry’s face and smiling deviously.

“You know I don’t want to,” Harry says with a sigh, getting down from his knees and sitting down properly on his bed, now at a lower level than Louis.

“Wouldn’t it make sense to _actually_ do something out of character? Do things differently instead of just _pretending_ to?” Louis asks, still holding the joint between his two fingers in front of Harry’s face. “Like, _actually_ being this _person_ you’re always going on about, instead of just being a poser?”

Louis settles in next to him on the bed, Harry’s lips parted, and pretty much feeling as though the boy is being way too harsh.

“You’re a fucking poser, dude,” Louis tells him, moving to place the joint behind his ear again.

“I’m not a _poser_ ,” Harry says, crossing his arms, even as Louis nods wholeheartedly. “I just…I have values—and…and _morals_ for myself when it comes to certain things.”

“ _Morals_?” Louis asks, raising his eyebrows. “You know weed isn’t Satan’s plant, right?”

Harry’s arms are just a bit loosened from where they’re crossed over himself, because. He doesn’t know anything about weed really, but it appears Louis is about to educate him very unexpectedly, what with how strongly it seems he feels about the words he’s saying.

“Marijuana is actually _good_ for you in many ways—they even give it to some people medically in order to help them get better. It’s an _herb_ that naturally occurs on earth and the only reason there’s a stigma against it is because the government told you so,” Louis tells him, his words very thorough and impassioned as he jabs the usual finger into Harry’s shoulder. “They can’t organize a way to make profit off of it, so they just ban it and unfairly send people to jail over it. Now _that’s_ an example of what morals _aren’t_.”

Harry’s actually stunned into silence for a moment, Louis looking pointedly at him as though he wants him to admit he should’ve never questioned the morality of weed. But really, Harry’s just wordless at witnessing Louis shamelessly caring about something so much. So much that he actually said something of _value_.

“Louis…” Harry begins, his eyebrows rising impressively. “What’s your last name?”

“Tomlinson.”

“Louis _Tomlinson_ ,” Harry says, pulling both of his legs up under himself so he sits with his legs crossed, facing the boy more properly. “You actually _care_ about things. I mean, I knew you did, because everyone does deep down, but _wow_ —I’m floored.”

“You’re full of shit,” Louis replies, already dimmed out in the eyes as opposed to the previous fire he’d been holding in, now working at picking at a hangnail on his thumb. 

“No, you _definitely_ have things you’re passionate about in that cute little brain of yours,” Harry claims, smiley as he reaches forth to tousle Louis’ hair playfully. “Just admit it.”

“Stop touching me.”

“You’d probably be a _perfect_ fit for the Peace Committee!”

“Never in a million years,” Louis replies, moving languidly on all fours before just releasing himself to flop into the bed, seeming as though he plans to fall asleep in that very position.

“That’s it? You don’t wanna do anything else to prepare for bed?”

“Why would I?” Louis mumbles into the pillow he’s buried in, face turned away from Harry as he kicks his shoes off of his feet. “I’m tired, so I sleep.”

Harry shifts in order to push himself off of the bed, headed toward his dresser in order to slide it open and pick out sleeping clothes from it. “Well, don’t watch me change.”

“See, a smart Harry wouldn’t have even told me he was about to change,” Louis mutters, Harry giggling through the shirt he’s getting off. Regardless of his words, Louis doesn’t turn around to check him out as he’s getting himself slipped into a clothing set (he just loves pajama sets, and he doesn’t care what people think about it) that simply includes a crewneck sweater and pajama pants that match in salmon color.

“It’s just crazy how you don’t need a bunch of things in place in order to sleep,” Harry says, just as he’s getting his pants snug on his hips. “Sort of alarming, really.”

“I’m the easiest sleeper there is. The world is probably ending if I’m not able to fall asleep anywhere at the drop of a hat.”

“I will keep that in mind as a signal for the end of times,” Harry says with an amused grin, going over to the tiny radio on his nightstand in order to turn it on. “I don’t know if this’ll annoy you, but I _have_ to sleep with music.”

Only a few seconds after his words comes the low-volume emergence of Harry’s CD playing where it spins in the radio, the ska genre’d reggae music floating throughout the room and already putting Harry’s bones at ease as he pulls on the lamp string in order to get the room dark.

Harry’s almost convinced Louis’ already asleep since nothing is said, and he just lets himself get under the covers and into the bed once he’s fully ready to succumb himself to sleep. He makes _sure_ to leave as much space between him and Louis as possible, only hearing the boy’s faint breaths as he gets his own sleep mask over his eyes.

“Your music taste sucks ass.”

Louis’ words had been barely there and mumbled, as though he’s on the verge of sleep, yet _had_ to use his final waking moments to declare this statement to Harry.

Harry tries not to take offense to it, just laying on his back with his arms above the sheets, his sights consumed in darkness. 

“’s what I grew up with,” he replies softly with a shrug. “Like just the memory of Sunday mornings as a child. Waking up to my mom doing laundry with this sort of stuff playing throughout the house. Makes me feel safe.”

There’s a gentle pause after Harry’s spoken, this time Harry being even more certain that the boy had fallen asleep.

“Still sucks ass,” Louis says, proving Harry wrong once again.

It brings a tiny bout of laughter out of Harry’s lips though, because he just finds it amusing and kind of endearing, Louis’ willingness to still be _Louis_ at all times. He’s just such a character.

“Since we’re trying to know more things about each other,” Harry begins, his fingers fumbling with the sheets a bit as they sit at his chest, slightly pulled by Louis being slumped on top of them and pinning them down. “I guess it’d be safe to know your history. Like…was Zayn right about the um. The five guys per month?”

Louis can he heard scratching at his head tiredly, Harry quickly laughing small once again and uttering a “he was probably just exaggerating”.

“He was definitely off,” Louis replies. “It was more like an average of seven.”

“Oh.”

“I like having sex.”

“I know,” Harry responds, forcing a tiny grin on his lips even though there’s no reason to. “Sex drives are a real thing and come in varying levels for different people.”

Louis only hums tiredly, getting in a more comfortable position on his back, only slightly faced away from Harry.

“But just like…if I’m ever in the same area as them, or like we see any one of the… _guys_. You’d tell me. Right?”

“Right. Now can I go to sleep?”

“Okay,” Harry says, letting out an easy breath and not noticing how his fingers are gripping the sheets a bit tightly. “But just one more thing.” He tries to ignore how Louis very blatantly sighs. “I’m all for it of course, but I guess I just don’t understand the _appeal_ of that sort of thing.” He speaks slowly and thoughtfully, not knowing why the darkness and the low ska music and the softness of words is making him feel more open to things he usually keeps in his head. “Makes me feel like something’s wrong with me. Like…hookup culture. I just can’t—get _into_ it. Especially with someone you’ve never met, like? I feel out of touch with a lot of the… _things_ that are common with people around me.”

There’s a stretch of silence, the music skipping on the radio just a bit as Harry waits it out, feeling just a little exposed after bearing his problems out like this. It sort of reminds him of the puppy fundraiser, where he’d opened up to the boy despite barely knowing him.

“Well,” Louis begins, Harry merely hearing the way his head shifts so that it’s tilted toward Harry now. “Sexual attraction is legit for many people. Whether you know the person or not.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just trying to steady the breathing in through his nose whilst feeling the dark gaze of Louis on the side of his face.

“Sometimes it’s even just…just _looking_ at a person,” Louis continues, his voice growing lower in volume, somehow feather light. “Wanting to know what they’re like in bed. How they’d be, what they’d let you do to them.” His voice has gone almost mute now, Harry hearing it as more of a hushed series of consonants layered faintly over the lulling music, his head inching in just a bit closer. “Where they’d draw the line. _If_ they’d even draw a line.”

Harry’s met with the feeling of Louis’ hand reaching up towards his hair, just barely toying with his curls. Harry doesn’t really feel much of it, but knows his hand is there because of the heat he feels on his cheek.

“God, even the _taste_ of every person is different and unique to them,” Louis murmurs, tugging on a ringlet of Harry’s hair so that he feels the slight twinge at his scalp. Louis’ turning over so that he’s fully on his side, this time facing Harry. “Sometimes I don’t even need anything in return. I just need to _go down_ on them, Harry.”

Harry swallows visibly, his eyes shut behind his mask as he clutches the sheets to his chest a bit more, Louis’ knuckles grazing his cheek as he continues to play with his hair.

“I see.” His voice is hardly there, but he manages to get the jist out anyway.

It feels as though Louis is tucking his fingers into Harry’s strands just so he can pull them back in order to get his tender words into Harry’s ear, Harry hearing them and _feeling_ them in a much more vivid manner now.

“Harry, you kinda moved me with that kiss today,” Louis says, speaking much too close to Harry now, Harry still fully on his back and faced toward the ceiling. “Obviously you’ve had your fair share of action. Fuck, I’d love to hear about that.”

Harry’s immediately inching away just barely when Louis’ going in for his neck, Louis sucking his teeth as though Harry’d coaxed him into it or something.

“Keeping it to myself,” Harry tells him, Louis groaning with a “come _on_ ” as Harry’s shifting on his side in order to face away from the boy and get more snuggled up under the sheets. “Goodnight, Louis.”

“It was worth a shot.”

Harry doesn’t say anything as he tries to will himself to sleep, even though the blush on his cheeks is taking a while to stop being felt. Probably because he can still sense the boy gazing over him from behind.

“Just one more thing, Harry.”

“What?”

“Say ‘fuck’.”

“No.”

“Say ‘ _fuck_ ’.”

“ _No_.”

“Okay, goodnight.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Harry’s honestly impressed that the frat boys of Pi Zeta decorated this place all on their own. They should honestly be professional party decorators with how amazing everything looks.

Harry’s probably the only person paying attention to the way everything looks though.

Everyone _around_ him is doing the _normal_ thing that happens at frat parties, dancing wildly and sloppily and chugging forbidden liquids down their throats in competition and participating in arbitrary reckless activites.

It’s the annual Luau Bash that the Pi Zetas throw every year. It’s full to the brim with Hawaiian print shirts, coconut bras, grass skirts, and flower lei necklaces on everyone’s bodies (unless they choose to go shirtless), there are giant fake palm trees, low citrus colored lights, fruity drinks, conga lines, limbo, and pretty much anything else one could imagine at a classic college party. They have it every year, and it’s always the talk of the school.

Every year also though, Harry is advised to stay far away from it. He always hears something about it being one of the raunchiest nights this campus has to offer.

So naturally, since he’s dating Louis now, he thought it’d be the _ultimate_ move to actually _go_ to the party this year with his new daring boyfriend Louis Tomlinson. This’ll _really_ let people know he’s changed.

He can’t find Louis though.

All he can find is people doing actual lines of coke not too far from the front door Harry’s just entered through, the orange lights dark and low but _not_ low enough for Harry not to know what they’re doing. He’s also immediately shoved by the jumping and drunken dancing of tons of people in the main area of the frat house spilling into the living room, clinking red fruity drinks together hastily so that it’s making a huge mess, and one particularly huge guy running through the house after seeming to have stolen someone’s coconut bra.

Harry feels he’s dressed appropriately enough. He’s part of the fifty percent of guys here who actually have a shirt _on_ , and he’s just dressed in some pink flower printed get up that he’d gotten at some tiny store he’d never noticed on his favorite street corner. He also has a tan straw hat over his hair that he feels somewhat matches the theme today.

His attire is adjusted promptly though, as Harry’s starting on his feet in order to look for his “boyfriend”—the clothing adjustment comes in the form of some girl he may or may not know, screaming his name excitedly and reprimanding him for wearing his shirt so proper as she unbuttons it all the way down and leaves him exposed down the middle. It happens so fast that Harry can’t protest, the girl just prancing away to join a conga line and screaming something at him that Harry can’t hear because the bass-heavy music is booming too loudly.

“Am I looking at _Harry_?”

The loud question picks Harry’s eyebrows up as he turns toward Niall, the boy doubled over in wonder and looking far beyond sober as even his pupils dilate. He has no shirt on and is wearing probably twelve flowery lei necklaces over his chest.

“Yes, it’s me,” Harry replies, tucking his hair behind his ear nervously as a nearby couple grinds just a bit too close to him. “I’m actually looking for Louis…if you, erm”—another shove by the nearby couple—“know where he is”.

Niall’s giggles are loose and hearty as he’s slipping one of his necklaces off in order to throw it down over Harry’s head, Harry finding himself pulled in once Niall tugs him forth by his necklace, their heads coming close together and Harry smelling the strong vodka on his breath.

“He’s really _corrupted_ you, hasn’t he? I swear, I never thought I’d see the day with you, Harry,” Niall says, pulling Harry into his side as he seems to now start on his journey toward showing Harry where Louis is, Harry feeling severely manhandled since stepping in here. He utters a bunch of other slurred gibberish as they’re walking throughout the packed frat house, Harry discovering that there are _levels_ to the amounts of activities going on, body shots, mass weed smoking (Harry can’t even _step_ into a room because of it), and even foam fights, which is exactly where they find Louis.

“And _there_ , you will find your hubby.”

Harry’s still roughly pulled into Niall’s side as they’re now looking at the _huge_ pool of foam tons of people are crowded around. What’s taking place appears to be some wrestling match where people sit on each other’s shoulders and try to shove each other off. Paired with the amount of alcohol it seems like everyone’s had, it actually looks rather dangerous. Louis doesn’t seem to care though as he’s sat high on Jack’s shoulders and is working with him in order to successfully ram the other pair into the ground, all while submerged in a foamy mess. He’s pleasantly dressed with effort, his Hawaiian shirt barely on as he’s got a shiny clear visor hat on his head.

“I’ve never seen your face at one of these.”

The emergence of the voice is only heard because of how _close_ it’s said to Harry’s face, Harry pulling his eyes away from the foam fight and nearly going crossed at the eyes once he’s face to face with this _guy_. This guy who’s a smidge taller than him, dark at the hair, clearly out of it as he’s drunk and far too into Harry’s space, already snaking a hand around his lower waist. Harry turns only briefly in realization that Niall’s left his side, his sights not even finding the boy anywhere.

“Um—I’m…I have a boyfriend,” Harry says, inching away from the touch but only being pulled in closer by the guy, their sides becoming flush.

“Really? Who?” He’s saying it as though it’s no big deal, that it’s just an easy challenge for him as he gets a hand up under Harry’s shirt and upon the small of his bare back.

“His name is Louis.”

The guy’s crooked grin stretches even more in nature, Harry taking this dazed moment of his as his chance to press a hand against his chest and fully get a separation of contact between them.

“Very funny,” is what he murmurs, using the hand Harry’d pushed him with and taking a hold of it so he can bring it to his lips. Maybe he’s supposed to be kissing on it, but he’s really just breathing and salivating over it more than anything else. Jesus, Harry really doesn’t know how to get out of this.

He finds an out when everyone’s suddenly cheering, Harry and the guy in front of him turning to find that Louis and his partner have won the match, the other pair submerged in the foam and Louis bouncing around on Jack’s shoulders with his fists in the air. Upon getting down from around Jack's shoulders, Louis' tossed into the crowd and made to surf through people roughly in jubilance, Harry seizing the sight he sees of the boy being passed nearby.

“ _Boyfriend_!” Harry yells, barely above the rest of the noise as he shoves himself away from the persistent guy and right in Louis’ face, the boy still partially carried up in the air and looking at Harry upside down.

Louis’ slow on processing him as he’s properly let down on the ground, another round of wrestling starting to take place in the foam pit and acquiring everyone’s attention.

“There you are sexy,” Louis says, stumbling into Harry with both arms around his neck.

Harry of course turns his face when Louis’ surging in, the boy only catching his cheek, and even still managing to give it quite a wet and sloppy peck. He really doesn’t know why the boy still tries. That movie night was just a rare case—Harry was desperate that night.

“You’re no fun,” Louis pouts, tilting his head so that he and Harry are connected at their foreheads.

He’s suddenly reaching down between them abruptly, grabbing a hold of Harry’s hand and declaring the words “beer pong!” as though it means anything to Harry. Regardless, Harry’s still pulled through the party and made to violently shove past innocent people as Louis’ pulling him along towards the backyard.

Despite Louis’ persistent efforts to get him to participate (“you can even do it with water” to which everyone boos), Harry decides to just watch the beer pong activities take place. It seems quite fun really, and Louis’ especially good at it. Harry’s quickly finding that Louis enjoys things a lot more openly when he’s had a drink or two. He even makes Harry kiss the ball for good luck before he throws it for quite a few rounds.

In the midst of one of the rounds, Harry’s offered a glass of what’s been called “fruit punch” by Jeff as he passes through the party making sure everything’s still somewhat under control, and Harry happily accepts it, quickly finding that it thankfully _tastes_ a lot like regular punch and is actually really tasty and red and tangy. He makes use of himself by sipping through the bamboo straw healthily and giggling at the little umbrella hanging over the glass. He _loves_ things that are on _theme_!

He doesn’t know why he’d let the boy’s presence slip his mind, but when he notices _Zayn_ existing at this party (obviously, this is his frat), over on the other side of the backyard and seeming to be rooting over Liam’s shoulder as the boys are playing foosball, he nearly jumps out of his shoes with excitement.

“ _Zayn_!” Harry yells while his feet are already moving, Harry now having a disregard for (and actually even completely forgetting) the beer pong activities that are going on.

Zayn’s eyes are admittedly wide once he’s turning around to make sure that the voice he’s hearing is, in fact, Harry’s. The boy wears a bucket hat and pocket t-shirt that’s pretty much entirely see-through past its white color.

“Harry?”

“Yes, it’s _meee_ ,” Harry says, dragging out the last word a bit and clumsily bringing his feet together as he steps in front of Zayn, taking another healthy gulp out of his straw. “I’m here with my boyfriend. Louis _Tomlinson_ , thank you very much.”

“Oh wow, you finally know his last name.”

“I _always_ knew his last name!” Harry tells him, speaking expressively in offense. In his peripheral he can see a pair getting quite heated on the couch by the foosball table, but he tries his best not to pay attention to it. “Also, do you know what they put in _this?_ It’s _so_ good!”

Zayn purses his lips into a line, seemingly trying to contain a smile he wants to make. His hands slide into the cargo shorts he’s wearing as he simply leans back to rest against Liam’s back, the boyfriend still diligently paying attention to foosball and not thinking much of it.

“How many of those have you had?” Zayn asks, tilting his head at Harry’s drink.

“This is my second. I’m _obsessed_ with it!” Harry exclaims, sipping at his bamboo straw once again only to find that he’s nearing the end of the glass. He speaks enthusiastically, as though he’s talking to the drink itself more than Zayn. “Like the mixture of fruits, the tang of it, it’s an explosion on my tongue.” He pokes at the umbrella a bit, giggling once again at how cute it is as some funky song plays and thrums in his chest. He then turns his eyes up and towards nothing in general, just relishing the music. “This music is _amazing_! Whoever’s playlist this is, I _need_ it! Hey, you wanna dance with me?” Harry asks suddenly, reaching forward for a hold of Zayn’s wrist and accidentally stepping on his shoe in the process, which Zayn barely reacts to.

All Zayn does is fail at holding in his little titters, his shoulders shaking with it as Harry looks at him with wide eyes and a hair of befuddlement.

“What?” Harry asks, deflating just a bit because instead of agreeing to dance, Zayn is laughing at him. Not cool.

“Nothing,” Zayn replies, still hiding behind quivering lips.

“You know,” Harry starts, releasing Zayn’s wrist with a sigh. “You’re really hard on me. Like a lot.”

He takes the time to disregard the straw and tip the rest of the contents of the glass into his mouth, Zayn not replying in any way and Harry not really taking notice of it. He even continues his words once he’s now just chewing on ice.

“Like, I know you’re one year over me, and you’ve always had this sense of higher—like, _something_ over me since we were in high school,” Harry begins, struggling to articulate himself as he gestures with his hands uselessly. “But you’re not actually my big brother. And I’ve never wanted one. It seems like it’d be suffocating. Which is how you make me feel sometimes.”

Although Zayn isn’t speaking, it’s not because he’s looking silently entertained anymore. His features are much less discernible now as he just stares back at Harry with pursed lips, Harry really thinking it’d be nice if he said something.

“Maybe I _wanna_ screw up sometimes?” Harry says, sounding unsure of himself as he roughs up his own hair and steps around a bit, as though speaking to the world in general. “Do something freaking _reckless_ that I know I shouldn’t? I mean, what _is_ life if you don’t ever put yourself in situations where you may end up looking dumb, and just foolish—“

Harry didn’t realize his rant had gotten kind of public, because his words are being interrupted by someone who isn’t even Zayn, patting at his shoulder to acquire his attention.

“You might’ve already achieved that one,” Harry’s being told by said guy, the guy tilting his head over in order to get Harry to look at something.

So Harry joins him in looking over to whatever it is he’d interrupted his rant for, finding Louis still over by the beer pong table—except there’s no game going on anymore. He’s just there, pressing some dude against the table and making out with him.

This gets a few people around Harry to giggle and laugh as Harry’s notice of this is taking place.

“What were you saying?” Zayn asks.

Harry turns his blank eyes back toward Zayn, only for a second or two having absolutely no idea of what he’s supposed to do in this moment. He quickly resorts to just hardening his brows at the boy and huffing, before starting over the grass and towards the other side of the backyard where Louis is at the beer pong table. 

It’s when Harry’s within closer view of them, that he sees that this is not just some guy, but a guy Louis’d briefly pointed out to him earlier when they’d just started beer pong. Louis had simply leaned into him and pointed out the dirty-blonde haired guy watching the game, and mumbled “fucked him” to which Harry just blinked and nodded his head. 

Currently as Harry’s walking up, it even looks like people around are sort of _expecting_ something to go down as they watch out of the corner of their eyes and sip drinks.

“Louis,” Harry begins, a bit awkward and not really knowing how to cut into this as he sets his drink on the table. “Um—Louis.” He tries to find the appropriate time to tap at the boy’s shoulder, trying to be rather polite as Louis’ snogging the life out of this guy. Louis' visor is even currently rotated to sit backwards in his hair to make room for all of their kissing.

The guy pulls away from Louis’ lips with a smacking sound, looking pointedly at Harry with a face that doesn’t really come off as friendly. “Fuck off,” is what he says, Harry only reacting in parted lips and clear offense on his face.

This break in kissing is what seems to blink Louis back to life, Louis looking at Harry with raised eyebrows, and then back at the guy, and then back at Harry, realization slowly sprinkled in his features.

“Wait actually—fuck, my bad,” Louis begins, stepping back and away from the guy with a stressful hand through his hair. “This is actually my boyfriend, Dennis. I’m not supposed to be kissing you.”

“ _Ha_.” Harry says with satisfaction, crossing his arms over himself.

The guy looks severely puzzled in response to this information, looking between them as though they’re from another planet and he’s too drunk for all this.

“Whatever,” he says, waving a hand off as he steps between them in order to find his place somewhere else. “Just find me later.” It’s murmured over his shoulder at Louis, the boy brushing his arm on the way past.

“’Course,” Louis tells him, before catching sight of Harry’s displeased facial expression and quickly changing his words. “I _mean_ —no, I won’t. I totally won’t.”

Harry doesn’t hesitate to grab a hold of the boy’s Hawaiian shirt at the shoulder, pulling him towards a more discreet area of this backyard so they don’t have all eyes on them anymore.

“What are you _doing?_ Are you _trying_ to give us away or something, Louis?”

“Sorry, I just slipped up,” Louis tells him, voice hushed and sharp as Harry lets go of his shirt. 

“Yeah, _you_ slip up, and _I_ look like the idiot who puts up with a cheating boyfriend,” Harry says sternly, not understanding why Louis’ not on the same wavelength as him. “That isn’t exactly an _improvement_ for how people view me.”

When all Louis does is poke a finger in one of his own ears and yell “ _what?”_ at Harry since he can’t hear anything and they’re near a speaker now, all Harry does is huff and roll his eyes.

He leans in closer to Louis, speaking into his ear and covering up his free ear. “I’m the _idiot_ who puts up with a cheating boyfriend!”

“Look Harry, I have _needs_!” Louis says, right into Harry’s ear as well. “Regardless of if I’m fake dating someone or not. And clearly you’re not in any position to fulfill any of them, so.”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking, um,” Harry starts, which instantly grabs Louis’ attention, since the boy had begun looking behind himself and over his shoulder as though he may still be able to grab “Dennis” and make out with him again.

Once he has Louis’ attention, he feels inflamed with nerves once again, especially since as they continue to subtly walk themselves back, Harry backwards on his feet and Louis forward, they’re surpassing the speaker and coming into their own little world in this small corner of the massive party.

“It would probably be more authentic—you know, kissing, and stuff,” Harry says, looking everywhere but Louis as he says these things. “Maybe regularly doing that would make people doubt us less. It’s just something I have to warm up to though, but I can get used to it.”

He’s actually astounded by how Louis hasn’t dove into him already, the boy just looking at him within close range as though he’s not sure if this is a trick or not yet.

“I understand the _thing_ you said about _actually_ doing things out of character, as opposed to just…” He’s sidetracked by not really having anywhere to back up since he’s near the brick of the wall, Louis’ tongue swiping over his own lips briefly as he simply watches Harry’s mouth. “…pretending to,” he finishes.

Louis’ reaching a hand towards Harry’s lei necklace, tugging on it so that Harry’s pulled inward and down just enough to where their lips should meet. “Awesome.”

“I’m also just realizing that punch definitely had something in it, because I don’t feel nervous at all right now,” Harry breathes near Louis’ nose. “Like _wow_ , I’m really out of it.”

“Let me help you back down,” Louis murmurs close to his lips, bringing his forearms up to settle on either side of Harry’s shoulders as he gets their lips to slot together.

Harry’s more complaisant and easily engulfed in it than he would be on any regular day, his back becoming comfortably settled against the brick of the wall as he lets Louis’ lips fold in between his, his own hands just barely there upon the boy’s lower waist.

Harry doesn’t even know if the taste of the fruit punch is coming mostly from Louis’ mouth or just his own, because they both had quite a lot of it, which is probably the cause for what’s happening right now. It’s also the reason Harry’s hesitant hands are less uncertain within only half a minute, one hand grasping at the material of Louis’ shirt and the other one sliding up his bare back.

Louis’ got a hold of one side of Harry’s jaw, holding him in place as he pushes his lips apart with his own mouth and even the teasing insertion of his tongue, Harry allowing himself to be tilted different ways as they properly make out within this secluded corner. Harry even hears something hard and glass break from inside the house and only turns his head toward it for half a second before Louis is gripping his chin back over and diving into him again.

There’s a sound of shameless nearby whistling once Louis’ tugging Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth, sliding one warm hand down the bare chest of Harry’s torso before going in again to latch his lips in, Harry involuntarily letting out a loaded hum into the kiss.

They kiss for quite a while. But since Harry’s also probably drunk, it doesn’t feel that way. All he knows is that they lock lips and Louis licks into his mouth and even gropes his behind quite boldly enough to get Harry’s blood stimulated in ways he hasn’t felt in some time, and when the boy is being beckoned away for another round of foam wrestling, Harry feels that it happens way too soon.

Louis is pulling him right along however, demanding that Harry be his partner. That’s how Harry finds himself on Louis’ shoulders in a serious tub of foam, getting ready to wrestle absurdly with Cedric, who’s upon some other guy’s shoulders that he remembers being on the school football team. Even though he regularly would never be into this thing (he hates unnecessary physical altercations), he participates wholeheartedly once everyone’s cheering him on—cheering him on by _name_ , and thinking he’s so cool now, and probably not even _associating_ him with that flower of a guy that passes out candy by the university center on occasion in order to politely ask people to make the world a better place.

He actually wins the wrestling match quite fast, sending Cedric tumbling into the foam after a powerful push to his shoulders, and he’s even made to be immersed in the foam himself once Louis’ letting him down and he’s being playful tackled into it, Harry’s laughs squeaky and gleeful as he gets wet in many places and Louis smacks him with foam several times.

“Am I fun now?” Harry asks, hanging off of Louis with an arm around his neck as they’re stumbling out of the foam pit, both of them holding no concern for their hats they'd lost in the bubbles.

Louis doesn’t respond with words, only quickly walking Harry into the nearest wall, grabbing a hold of his jaw and kissing him again, his tongue meeting Harry only a little before his lips, and Harry fully allowing it in every way and _savoring_ the teasing noises that arise surrounding them.

It doesn’t faze him when Louis’ curving an arm up under his thighs and fully hiking him up against the wall, their bodies flush and damp from the pit. Harry’s experiencing nothing but warmth from the boy in front of him as their lips lock messily.

“Are you as turned on as I am,” Louis breathes between them, Harry holding his face at both sides and now nipping at a corner of the boy’s mouth.

“Yeah,” is how he breathes right back, Louis’ fingers sinking into the material at his thighs that much more as he keeps him held, lowering his face and letting his teeth slide against Harry’s neck to the point where he even faintly shivers.

“C’mon,” Louis says, letting Harry down and quickly grabbing his hand in order to lead him through the party.

Harry obliges without a fight, being dragged along by Louis and feeling as though he’s floating through the bodies of this party. On the way towards the stairs that lead up to the boy’s rooms, they only get stopped once—and it’s the result of that _guy_ Louis’d been making out with earlier, stopping Louis by the shoulder and questioning him (“you’re really about to go up…with him?”)

With the way Harry simply grins his polite grin at the boy, just as he does with pretty much everyone as he’s still looking at the two of them disbelievingly, he probably doesn’t expect what actually comes out of Harry’s mouth.

“Fuck off,” is all Harry says, his tone far too sweet in nature as Louis bursts into laughter with huge eyes. He yanks Harry by his hand in order to advance them towards the stairs in a rush, the both of them having to trot up the stairs past people who are prissily sipping drinks and getting ready to dive into the living room from the balcony and waiting in line for the bathroom, where they are probably going to throw up.

Once they get into Louis’ room (which Harry has never been in, by the way—and is even still too drunk to process), Louis leaves Harry’s side immediately, supposedly to toy with the little vinyl record thing he has by his bed. Setting the mood, Harry believes. So they won’t have to do this to the tune of people barfing down the hallway.

“Now if I could just get these off,” Harry giggles, irritated but tickled with the uncooperative nature of his pants zipper right now. He looks down at it in frustration, his shirt still done open and his pants still on. “Why don’t you wanna come off?”

It’s right when the sound of psychedelic rock music on the vinyl player is starting up that Harry turns around to look at Louis where he’s on the other side of the room, standing over the spinning record that’s now spreading through the bedroom quite melodiously. Harry settles on just shrugging his shirt off first as he stumbles towards the boy.

He quickly pulls it on before he can get it off though, making cheeky eyes at Louis as he only slightly trips over his feet. “Or maybe I should just let you do it.”

Louis looks just a bit frantic, if Harry’s being honest. Like, in a moment where Harry would’ve thought Louis would be jumping over the _moon_ with lust and the quickness of a fox, he’s looking just a bit out of it, reaching out for Harry’s shirt collar with a steady hand and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Come _on_ ,” Harry urges, tugging the boy forth by his shirt as well, which brings them to stumble backwards, which results in them tripping over a chord on Louis’ bedroom floor and being headed right towards the carpet, the both of them laughing through it all.

Louis’ on his back with an arm having gotten pinned underneath Harry, breathing heavily with both amusement and what looks like exhaustion, Harry coming to his side and propping his head up with his hand as he looks down on the boy.

“I am so drunk,” Louis breathes, closing his eyes for a long moment and swallowing.

Harry reaches out his free hand towards the boy, just tracing along his collar bone and not really understanding why he’s not being ravished right now. “Yeah.”

Louis’ eyes float open, this dazed and dreamy look behind them as he shifts his head so he’s looking at Harry right now, Harry blinking back at him prettily and still grazing his collarbone with his fingertips.

“You are too,” Louis tells him.

“Totally unplanned,” Harry replies, now casting his eyes down on Louis’ exposed chest and sliding his hand down, just testing out the boy’s reaction to it as he settles a warm palm against one of his nipples. “But I actually don’t hate it so much.”

Louis doesn’t say much, nor does he express everything in his gaze as he looks unsurely at Harry, Harry quickly growing bored of it and leaning down so that just his breath is hovering over the boy’s nipple, closely watching the boy’s eyes in order to get any kind of signal. Louis’ eyes only flutter closed as he lets his head rest back comfortably, Harry taking this as his opportunity to take one of Louis’ hands and guide it toward himself, right inside his pants as he’s getting his teeth softly around the boy’s nipple.

When Louis doesn’t actually take the initiative and shove his hands the rest of the way into Harry’s pants, Harry shows frustration much more vividly on his face as he knits his eyebrows at the boy and releases his nipple.

“Maybe another night.” It falls out of Louis’ lips solemnly, as though he really wished this could’ve happened tonight. Which doesn’t make any sense, because it _can_ happen tonight. It _should_ happen tonight.

“ _Why_?” Harry asks, a blatant whine.

“ _Because_ ,” Louis starts, the both of them now connected at the eyes. “Did _you_ ever have to give me an actual reason? You’re being a bit hypocritical right now, Harry.”

“Well, I just wanna know, since it seemed like every other time _before_ now, your one and only dream was to get into my pants,” Harry starts. “What, am I not sexy to you anymore?”

“No—it’s not _that_ ,” Louis begins, bringing his arms up to his face exasperatedly as he shields himself as though something is pent up inside of him. “It’s just…ugh. I feel like I should tell you—“

The violent banging on Louis’ locked bedroom door is what interrupts him quite loudly, followed by the exclamations and hollering of people congratulating Louis on banging Harry and “getting some tonight”, all of which Harry grows flustered to as they both look over at the closed door.

“I have an idea,” Louis says, sitting up a bit, Harry watching his face close enough to see how a curve pokes at a tiny corner of his lips.

This idea manifests itself fairly quickly, Harry finding himself on his knees upon the bed, Louis standing near the bed and simply grabbing the legs of the bed in order to rock it back and forth. Harry’s jumping his knees up and down on the bed as they make it seem as though they’re having sex in here.

As the crowd around Louis’ bedroom has grown substantially, so have their acting abilities, and Harry’s having a blast right now as he moans as best he can and tries to make the bed creak with his heavy knees.

“Fuck, _Harry_ ,” Louis says exaggeratedly, rocking the bed back and forth with his hands around the frame. “Oh my _god.”_

“Louis— _Jesus.”_ Harry gets on his socked feet upon the bed, fully jumping on it as he and Louis hold giggly eyes and try not to burst into laughter. “You’re so _good_. _Spit_ in my _mouth_.”

Louis actually pauses his bed rocking in response to this, his jaw pretty much dropping to the floor. Harry has to actually cover his mouth as he sinks back to his knees so that people don’t hear him bursting into chuckles from outside.

“Yeah, no more speaking for you,” Louis says quietly, coming over to Harry on the bed and fully taking a pillow in order to put it over his face, Harry being forced to lay back against the bed as the boy literally smothers him.

Harry squeals and laughs under the pillow, even though it’s drowned out by Louis doing some more of his pretty impressive grunting and groaning, rocking the bed with his useless movements and holding the pillow over Harry’s face.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” Louis says, Harry finally wrestling the pillow off of his face.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, breathless from the pillow struggle and his hair flying about his face every which way as Louis’ still upright on his knees and hovered over him.

“Yeah,” Louis replies, holding the pillow to Harry’s chest and still rocking on his knees in order to get the bed to make creaky noises.

“Me too,” Harry replies, not sure if his breathlessness is still from the fighting or just…the encompassing feel of Louis loomed over like this, rocking back and forth and moaning into the air.

“You like that?” Louis asks, his voice still heard, but not as _loud_ as it was when they’d started this whole thing.

“Mhm.”

“ _Fuck_ —I’m,” Louis begins, Harry trying not to giggle again as Louis makes a sound of what’s supposed to be him reaching climax, the pillow held tightly against Harry’s chest as the revelry outside of the bedroom grows in size. God, people really like listening to other people have sex.

Louis slumps into his chest with laughter after the whole thing is over, Harry not being able to keep his chuckles light either upon realizing how utterly ridiculous that was.

“That was fun,” Harry says, feeling that they’re in the clear since there isn’t much noise outside of the bedroom anymore.

“Definitely,” Louis tells him, picking his head back up and becoming propped up on his forearms as he’s looking down on Harry again.

“So, uh…” Harry starts, picking at the white fuzz of the pillow between them as he looks away a bit. “Why didn’t you, like. _Actually_ wanna do anything with me?”

He lets his eyes find their way back to Louis, letting them go big in innocent wonder as Louis looks right back with something Harry can’t quite read. They stay like that for a moment, far too long a moment—and the moment is only pacified by Harry’s stomach turning in a really wrong direction, sending him scrambling to get up and away from Louis as he reaches for the nearest thing he can vomit into.

So that’s why he’s now kneeled down on the ground by the bed, throwing up into Louis’ backpack.

He didn’t mean to, he really _didn’t_ mean to, but this was the closest thing that would hold it and even though there’s a bathroom a few feet ahead, he would _not_ have made it.

“Maybe because of _that_ , perhaps,” is what Louis can be heard saying somewhere beyond his pounding ears and heaving breaths.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Harry’s stepping out of Louis’ bathroom, having no idea what ungodly hour of the night it must be by now.

He’d been given a toothbrush, a shower, and basically a chance to freshen up everything about himself since he’d hurled into Louis’ backpack about an hour ago. And it seems the party is _still_ going on downstairs. Even as Harry’s now in clothes Louis had given him that he’d stolen from one of his frat brothers’ rooms—a huge jersey and draping sweatpants.

Louis’ laid down in his bed, his television now turned on as he’s more comfortable in a school hoodie, seeming to be casually eating liquorice candy as he flips through channels.

“Sorry,” Harry says, for probably the thousandth time as he presses himself against the bathroom doorframe.

“Not a big deal.”

Harry presses his face into the wall by the bathroom for a brief second, once again registering the fact that he’d just _thrown up_ his guts in front of Louis and into his backpack.

“That was so embarrassing,” Harry mewls. “I’ll just go.”

“C’mon Harry, it’s like four a.m.,” Louis says, scooting over on the bed to signal he can come over. “So you puked because you got pretty trashed at a party. Everyone’s done it before. It’s practically a rite of passage.”

“But your backpack,” Harry says, walking forth to join Louis on the bed.

“Has already been thrown into the trash bin out back, and _then_ I’ll probably set the trash bin on fire, but,” Louis begins, taking another bite out of his liquorice and looking pointedly at Harry as Harry settles upon the pillows. “I clearly understand it was an accident. You’re aware I can comprehend those kinds of things, right?”

Harry just grins gratefully, already preparing to pull half of his hair up as he looks at the television along with Louis, even as they can barely hear it with Louis’ rock music still playing, _along_ with the party still going on downstairs.

“God, they will never go home, will they?”

“I don’t blame them. This party is awesome,” Harry says, half of his hair up and out of his face, Harry now just looking around himself in order to be nosy, especially since he’s less drunk now and actually wants to take in things around him. “Definitely a first for me.” He takes notice of what looks like a giant thick sheet of paper of some sort of poster material tucked behind Louis’ headboard, and he doesn’t hesitate to giggle at the boy deviously before fully turning around to reach for it and pull it out.

What he pulls out is, indeed, an art poster, or _several_ art posters in a sort of sketchpad of just…drawings. Not even paintings or pastels because there’s definitely no color to them. They’re just huge hand drawn pieces, and Harry’s almost going slack at the jaw whilst flipping to see how many pages there are.

“What? You’re not gonna stop me from looking through these in order to maintain your bad boy persona?” Harry asks, quivering his lips at Louis as he’s holding up the page of a particularly detailed and scratchy drawing of roses.

“Me stopping you would imply that I actually care,” Louis replies, eyes not even turned towards Harry as he continues channel surfing. “Which I don’t.”

Harry just makes a face at him before going back in to look at the drawings, actually feeling very moved by how talented he is at this. He’s genuinely _skilled_ it looks like, but Harry doesn’t think any of the boys around the house have even _mentioned_ that the boy is an artist of any sort. He’s definitely got the effect of artistic realism down _perfectly_.

“These are really good.”

“Whatever.”

Harry shuts the sketchbook back to its first page and fully turns his body so that he’s facing Louis.

“Draw me!”

“What?”

“ _Draw_ me,” Harry says with hopeful eyes. “C’mon, it’d be so cool!”

“No.”

“You drew _him_ ,” Harry replies with a pout, pointing at a page in particular.

“That’s James Dean.”

“What, am I supposed to take second place to whoever this _James Dean_ dude is?” Harry asks, Louis budging and reaching for the pages in Harry’s hands in order to put them back behind the headboard himself, probably so Harry won’t bug him anymore.

“Why don’t you just rest your pretty little head and go to sleep,” Louis says, settling back into the bed and patting Harry on top of the head. He doesn’t fully sit down before he’s reaching behind himself and towards the headboard again, this time grabbing a purple bandana that hangs off of it messily.

“I forgot you need something over your eyes though, right?” Louis asks, Harry blinking at him boredly, since the boy is clearly trying to mock him whilst folding the bandana properly. “So you can get your beauty sleep.”

He even allows it when Louis is leaning forth and tying the bandana at the back once it’s settled over Harry’s eyes, Harry sufficiently not being able to see anything, only hearing the gladdened way Louis laughs.

“There.”

“I guess I will thank you for being thoughtful,” Harry replies, settling himself back against the headboard and upon the pillows. 

“And now you will thank me by letting your mouth stay closed while I watch television,” Louis tells him, the boy seeming to have settled on a channel that’s playing some quiet and cliché-sounding scary movie (Harry’s almost convinced the boy is just trying to get a kick out of him).

Harry stays there in compliance, figuring he at least owes the boy that since he’s still even letting him stay here after he blew chunks into his backpack. Enough time passes to the point where his head drifts within the orbit of Louis’ shoulder, and he’s _very_ careful when deciding to properly settle his head there, not wanting the boy to push him off or acknowledge it abruptly.

And thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it once Harry’s head is nestled comfortably in there. All Louis does is make a remark about how one of the actresses resembles an animal that he can't put his finger on.

At some point, Harry even feels the boy’s hand in his hair, playing through the strands absentmindedly and tracing his scalp. It only lasts as long as it takes the boy to realize it, which Harry can tell by the way his hand stiffens up, and then retracts itself. At least Harry enjoyed it while it lasted.

“Oh my god she’s cutting off her arm,” Louis blurts in reaction to something on the screen.

Harry quickly brings his fingers to the bandana in preparation to slide it off. “I wanna see—“

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Louis hisses, Harry feeling the boy’s hand wrap around his head and come to bury his eyes closed, Harry laughing through his ridiculousness, even as the television is making wild noises and he is missing it.

“Let me _see_!”

“Nope. It’s way too much for your fragile eyes,” Louis says, holding Harry tightly against his chest as he keeps his eyes covered. “Even _I’m_ not enjoying this.”

Harry’s just held there against his will until the scene passes, and only afterward is Louis sliding his hand off of Harry’s eyes and into his hair, simply keeping him there. He’s eventually transitioning into toying with Harry’s hair again, which _thankfully,_ he doesn’t become consciously aware of.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Harry’s stirring awake after it feels like he’s been asleep for a good month.

And immediately when he’s in the process of shifting himself around, he finds it’s not so easy, since he’s kept in place by a particularly unknown force around his waist and holding him back against themselves.

With a groan that turns into more of a yawn than anything as Harry’s struggling to open his eyes to slits, he’s turning himself over in order to toss into a more comfortable position on the bed—and is immediately shocked when his barely open eyes are met with the _extremely_ close face of another person.

He actually _screams_ in reaction to the abruptness of it, because his slow moving morning mind hadn’t even grasped the fact that he’s not _alone_ , or in his _dorm room_. The magnitude of his freight and one-second panic even sent him falling backwards out of the bed, hitting himself pretty hard on the carpet, which does nothing to help his already aching head.

“Dude, what the fuck.”

It’s the groggy, barely-there sound of Louis, heard by Harry as he’s down on the ground, struggling to bring himself to sit back up as he runs tired fingers through his hair.

In this moment, things are coming back to him that bring it all to make sense. The party. The fruity drinks. The making out with Louis. The foam fighting. The puking in Louis’ bag.

“God, I puked in your bag,” Harry says, rubbing his fingers over his eyes with exhaustion. 

“For the last time, I don’t care.”

“Yeah, but,” Harry begins, speaking tiredly through the palming of his face. “I’m just even more sorry now. Especially since I know you’re trying to improve your school performance and stuff, because of your parents.”

There’s a gentle silence that follows, Harry sliding his palms down and off of his face, barely being able to see Louis on the bed from where he’s sat low on the ground.

“Yeah, um…” Louis begins, his words sounding less committal now. “Listen, Harry. I…don’t—“

The knock at Louis’ door cuts into his words, Harry turning his head towards it and wanting to groan at how just the _sound_ is causing his skull to ache too. He rises to his feet in order to drag himself towards the door just so whoever it is will _not_ knock again.

Once he swings the door open with barely open eyes, he’s met with Niall, oven mitts in both hands, still no shirt on, and still the same amount of leis hanging around his neck wildly. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if the boy never went to sleep.

“Good morning,” Harry tells him, although his tone is the opposite of cheery.

“Good morning!” Niall smiles back. “Just wanted to let you guys know I whipped up a bunch of breakfast for everyone. Figured the husbands would appreciate it.” He says it with a soft pinch to Harry’s cheek, Harry barely grinning before going back to being agitated. “Also figured you’d probably need it with the hangover you’re most likely having.”

“Definitely,” Harry replies, looking back and over his shoulder, where Louis is now sat up and seeming to be rolling a blunt on top of the laptop he’s brought upon his lap.

“Sure, we’ll be down there,” Louis says, not looking up from his task.

Niall is delighted by this, and finally leaves them with a skip-jog back down the hall. Harry knows that he most definitely needs the breakfast too, even though more than anything, he just wants to get into bed and never get back out.

But eventually (after Louis finally has a blunt rolled and tucked behind his ear, of course), they’re making their way down the stairs, Harry held high on Louis’ back, because he’d expressed how he doesn’t feel like using his legs, and Louis had offered himself without thinking much of it.

It looks like they’ve come a bit late though, as the boys fight over the food in the kitchen and are eating up a lot of it without regard for who may want some as well. The house is also still an absolute mess.

“Don’t worry, I knew they’d never let you guys get to the pancakes,” Niall says, emerging in front of them with two full plates of breakfast once they’ve entered the kitchen, full with pancakes, strips of turkey bacon, biscuits, and tiny cuts of fruit, all that actually look legitimately appetizing.

“You’re such a nice boy,” Harry tells him, the words muffled against Louis’ shoulder as he moves to get himself down.

“Oh, _Louis_! Oh my _god_ , Louis! Right there, _right there_!” comes the teasing voice of Patrick, the boy vividly miming thrusting his hips into the kitchen island and pretty much initiating the other boys to join in and mock them.

Harry just scoffs at them as he and Louis go over to one of the tables outside of the kitchen, Harry having to scoot a grass hula skirt out of the seat before he sits in it.

“Guessing we all know why you’re both worn out this morning,” Cedric says.

“You freaks act like you’ve never heard of two people having sex before,” Louis tells them, now approaching their table after having fetched glasses of lemonade for him and Harry.

They’re still cooed at and mocked with more exaggerating moaning noises as Harry’s trying not to let it all get to his pounding brain, instead enjoying these pancakes that Niall’s surprisingly great at making, by the way.

The only thing that pulls him out of just consuming food and tuning everyone out is the appearance of Zayn coming down the stairs, looking just as worn out and disheveled as most of everyone here as he hides under the hood of his sweatshirt and scratches at his eye. This happens right after Harry has urged Louis to try the turkey bacon (Harry won't have any himself of course but he heard it's good), since the boy has stated he refuses to eat anything that’s been “watered down in order to be healthy”.

“Good morning Zayn,” Harry says brightly just as he’s feeding Louis a stick of turkey bacon, the boy eating it defiantly as it’s shoved into his mouth. Zayn only waves back at him halfheartedly as he’s coming down the steps.

Louis’ in the midst of sipping from his glass of lemonade when he turns to look towards the boy’s approach. “Good morning, loser.”

“’sup lovebirds,” Zayn says, coming to stand in front of their table, perfectly in the middle of them as he looks between the both of them. Harry can’t tell what he’s thinking, but he knows _something_ is running through the boy’s head. Something quite groundbreaking probably.

Finally, Zayn sighs, as though releasing a peaceful breath. “I guess I stand corrected. This is…quite the change of pace for the both of you, but if you’re truly happy, then I’m happy for you.” He places a heavy hand on each of their shoulders, Harry not knowing why it feels bittersweet, having Zayn now joining the masses in believing they’re legit.

“No seriously, Louis. This is the longest I’ve seen you with even _one_ guy!” Niall yells disbelievingly.

Harry tries not to make it too obvious when he flashes incredulous eyes at the boy, mouthing the words “ _two weeks?_ ” to which Louis just rolls his eyes and takes his blunt out from behind his ear.

“Throw a parade about it, why don’t you,” Louis says, digging in his pocket for his lighter.

“What we _should_ do though, is toast,” Niall suggests, lifting the jug of lemonade in the air as he stands in the midst of the kitchen like a true breakfast king. “To Louis and Harry.”

All the boys actually join in lifting their glasses of juice, and water, and even their cans of beer, toasting to Louis and Harry, and Harry starting to have no idea of how he should feel.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“What exactly are you doing?” asks Dwayne after he’s pulled Harry aside.

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t just bring a random into a Peace Committee meeting. This club isn’t a joke, you know.”

“I—“ Harry begins, showing offense clear on his face before he looks back at where Louis is sitting in one of the armchairs in the library where they’re currently having their meeting, the boy with yet another blunt tucked behind his ear as though marijuana is even allowed on campus. “I didn’t realize this club was _exclusive._ Isn’t being _all-_ inclusive and accepting of others what the Peace Committee is all about?”

“Yeah, for _regular_ people, maybe,” Dwayne fires back. “Not for _Louis_ , who literally sold counterfeit tickets to one of our benefit concerts before.”

Harry rolls his eyes as he tries not to huff, the wind and rain outside of the library starting to sound particularly dreadful right about now. 

“That was _so_ long ago,” Harry tells him. “Who’s to say he can’t change? Just give him a chance. He’s not even a regular member yet, just testing it out.”

Dwayne keeps hard eyes on him for just a bit longer, Harry keeping his gaze hopeful and innocent. The guy eventually budges, simply going back over to the group where they sit amongst the carpet and the couches and sofas in order to continue their meeting, since they couldn’t find anywhere else on campus at this time of the late evening to have a spontaneous meeting. Harry goes right over to Louis’ lap to sit, planting a huge kiss on the boy’s cheek and listening in on their plans to bring awareness to the climate crisis.

And all is going perfectly well. People are coming up with great ideas, and ways to spread the information in a fun way, and petitions they can get their names on, and Louis is just sitting there nice and pretty, taking it all in. Harry’s even delighted at how Liam and Zayn are running most of the meeting, having come up with some ideas of their own in advance that actually sound really well-executed.

It’s when the members are talking about the dying tiger population that Louis’ opening his mouth, although Harry kind of wishes he hadn’t.

“Do you guys actually do anything that matters?”

It happens quite clumsily and slowly, the way everyone quiets down, some looking to him a bit confusedly and Dwayne saying “I don’t understand”.

“Like, you guys are just known for throwing bitch fits on campus over things no one cares about.”

“Um—people really _do_ care about the tigers,” Bria chimes in.

“Is that so, hmm?” Louis replies, sitting up and ignoring the hysterical eyes Harry’s giving him as he sits in his lap. “I guess that’s why they’re dying so easily and no one’s doing a damn thing about it?”

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry hisses.

“I’m just saying,” Louis says, throwing a hand up in the air even under all the judgmental expressions he’s receiving. “No one ever got anything done in this world by throwing up peace signs and asking nicely. When it comes to the end of the world, and the poor animals, and decency for human kind, as long as the major, money hungry corporations aren’t listening, we’re fucked. It’s shitty, but usually if you’re not punching someone in the face in order to get the change you want, then what’s your point? What progress will you make?”

“Harry, please muzzle your boyfriend.”

Harry already has a finger over the boy’s mouth before he can hastily offer a rebuttal, feeling that maybe he actually _should_ muzzle the boy at this point. He politely offers a grin to the rest of the group (especially Dwayne) as though everything is under control, before turning to the boy he’s literally sitting on.

“Louis. People _do_ care. We care,” Harry tells him, speaking thoughtfully. “That’s the point of this club. To see if things can be done without resorting to anything else but peace. Don’t you think that’s a _great_ thing, babe? Not having to use violence and force to get things better in the world?”

“I don’t think it’s _bad_ , it’s just that it’s never worked, _babe_. Ever heard of a guillotine?”

“Okay, um—“ Harry begins, laughing nervously before he’s _graciously_ saved when suddenly, all the power goes out. Everything in the library turns to dark, and the only thing really heard is the thundering rain outside and the students spread throughout the building who are devastated from their unsaved essays.

“Well, I guess this meeting is over!” Harry says, throwing his hands up and chuckling some more.

He’s met with a pretty tough crowd, his club members instead dispersing to try and figure out what’s going on, everyone quickly finding that there’s a power outage. Outside is dangerous and torrentially rainy in weather, and everyone in the building is pretty much stuck in here for as long as it takes the storm to pass. Great. Harry was just beginning to really _love_ the vicious glares his club members were starting to give him.

Since they’re going to be here a while, everyone’s making the best of it as the library assistants are being helpful in handing out as many candles as they can find, most of everything dark save for a few low and yellow glows over people’s faces. Louis had rejected Harry’s offer to light a candle while sitting with him, claiming the vanilla-cinnamon scent “smells disgusting”.

People are making themselves comfortable all throughout the library, most of everyone coming together and mixing within the people he was already here with at his meeting, and at some point, it even comes to a point where someone’s suggesting they play spin the bottle since there are no supervisors here. Despite how obviously childish it should be regarded as and how distasteful the idea is, people are actually into it, which has Harry already rising from where he was sat in the midst of it all and throwing up his hands.

“I’m taking absolutely no parts in this game,” Harry says, turning his nose up and finding another sofa away from the group.

That is, until he hears Louis behind him, still low on the floor and staying where he was sat. “Who’s first?”

Harry immediately comes back over just to grab a hold of Louis’ ear and pull him up off of the ground by it, verbally letting the boy know that he shouldn’t be taking any parts in the game either, _obviously_.

“Wow, _there’s_ the tiny bit of aggression I always enjoy from you,” Louis says as he’s pulled onto a further away small couch with Harry, on the outskirts of the immature game and the both of them only lit up by a nearby candle on a bookshelf.

“Shut up,” Harry says with exasperation, Louis close into his side because of how tiny the sofa is. “You made a fool of me today.”

“Are you seriously mad about that?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry fires back. “You know, this is something I actually care about. Like, it’s important to me? And you weren’t supportive at _all!”_ He makes a point of lowering his voice a bit once eyes are flicking towards him, even Zayn looking just a bit concerned from where he sits with his back against Liam’s chest, seeming to be reading a book with the wavering candle light next to him.

“Sorry Harry, but one of the things I will _always_ do is speak up for how I feel about stuff.”

“Well, if _that’s_ how you really feel about stuff, then—“

“Then what? We don’t have a future?” Louis asks, grin growing crooked as though this whole thing is a joke. “I think that’s already a given.”

Harry just tilts his head at the boy tiredly, everything starting to become clearer to him, how this _is_ just a fake relationship, and there are very real reasons why they wouldn’t be able to work as a real thing.

Louis inches in just a bit so that his chin is settled on Harry’s shoulder, Harry just blinking with exhaustion and letting it happen.

“Can I kiss you?” Louis asks.

“What? _No_.”

“Please?”

“Okay.”

Louis leans in, his nose tickling Harry’s as he gently catches Harry’s lips in between his own. One of his arms is snaking around Harry’s lower back, bringing Harry to in return get one arm around Louis’ neck to keep him in close, the boy kissing with chaste pecks over his cheek and jaw.

“Still can’t believe you’re fine with kissing now,” Louis murmurs into his neck, Harry’s eyes fluttering closed to it. He suddenly picks his head up however, looking at Harry closely, and Harry’s eyes slowly opening again. “You do remember that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits with a sigh. “But mainly because I legitimately _had_ been thinking about it for a while, even before that night.”

“I really _have_ ruined you, haven’t I?”

Harry just shakes his head with a laugh that’s barely there, eyes dazed and focused forth at the rest of the students, along with the messy circle near the study table that spins a plastic bottle between themselves, followed by leaning over the center of the circle on all fours in order to give each other these useless, short lived smooches.

“But like, the thing about _actually_ doing things. It’s on my mind a lot,” Harry says, turning his eyes back toward where Louis is close next to him, their gazes locking.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Harry replies, feeling the brush of Louis’ fingers slightly curling against the skin of his back. “I’d…I’d really wanted to do it with you that night.”

Louis’ leaning forth, mostly getting his nose settled within Harry’s hair, and Harry doesn’t know if it’s because he’s trying to stifle something, or because he genuinely just wants his face in it.

“If it’s for the wrong reasons, then that’s kind of fucked up, don’t you think?” Louis whispers, although it doesn’t _sound_ like he’s as critical as he’s letting on as his words tingle at Harry’s ear.

“I think, um,” Harry begins, cocking his head back so that he and Louis are forehead to forehead again, breathing each other’s air as he reaches for Louis’ hand that isn’t behind his back, just brushing fingers at his wrist. “I don’t think that’s fully the case here.”

Louis’ looking back at him just as closely, eyes eventually settled down upon his lips, although there’s this frustrated knit to his eyebrows as though he’s still conflicted over this thing he so clearly wants. 

Harry makes a subtle point of sitting with his legs apart just a bit more, Louis now looking down upon the movement with even more conflict on his face. Harry just looks at him expectantly, genuinely not even knowing when he’d made the switch to wanting the boy sexually, but just knowing there’s no turning back now.

“You can touch me, if you want,” Harry breathes, as softly as he can muster. He urges the boy towards his crotch by his wrist, Louis letting it happen and having his hand rested right where he can feel Harry straining against his pants just a bit, the both of them looking down at it, although Harry’s alternating between looking down and at the side of Louis’ head.

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis breathes, Harry bucking up towards his hand as the sounds of laughing students and briefly smacking lips continue in the background. There’s even people sat on the couches on either side of them, yet they’re positioned closely enough and far away from a candle in order to make it discreet. Even the unrelenting patter of the rain and thunder against the building gives them room to not have to be endlessly quiet.

Harry hates that he can’t even _see_ it that well when Louis’ undoing the string on his pants, seeming so eager for it that he might burst.

Once he gets a hand inside and is making a beeline for Harry’s actual length instead of just his briefs, Harry’s taking in a faint breath as his eyes simply slip closed, his arm still holding Louis in close to the side of him around his neck.

He lets his head rest back once the warmth is building from Louis simply thumbing at his head, Harry sensitive to almost every touch as he’s trying not to arch up into it and make himself look obvious. People could still be onto it however, what with the way Louis is now openly mouthing at his neck with deep kisses that certainly aren’t appropriate for public anyway.

Harry seals his lips together and roughly shudders through his nose once Louis’ properly jerking him off, simply not wanting any sort of noise to escape his mouth and blow this whole thing into the water. And as he’s holding off so much, fully aware that only Louis and him are close enough to hear the fast, wet sounds of it, his breath hitches significantly through his nose, Harry clutching the material of the boy’s shirt as his chest rises.

Louis’ relentless in the pull of his wrist, nearly jerking Harry off the seat as Harry tries to keep his hips as stuck to the cushion as possible, but being subtle is kind of something he can’t concentrate on when he’s scrambling forth to catch Louis’ lips in his own instead of on his neck. He’s massaging his tongue against the boy's and letting their lips entangle as he’s riding the wave out as he comes, his head picking up with it as the orgasm pulsates throughout his body and his eyes flutter to roll back just a bit.

He’s thrusting into it only once as Louis is giving him some last, thorough jerks of his hand, Harry’s teeth sunk into his lip and his forehead pressed against the side of the boy’s head.

Even with his teeth latched onto his lip, Harry’s mouth is curving upward as he’s recovering from it, Louis bringing his fingers up to his own lips in order to taste Harry and get his hands cleaned up.

And…this certainly is a _rush_. It’s precisely the kind Harry’d been searching for. The daring nature of it, the both of them breathing each other in hotly and intimately, as though nothing in their surrounding environment holds any sort of importance right now. The shameless disregard for time and place has Harry really excited, and he’s absolutely enjoying every second of this right now. He’s even fine with tasting himself when Louis’ going back into his lips with a lush tongue and a puckered mouth.

Harry speaks in between their pecks, still trying to steady his breath. “Wanna go to nonfiction literature? No one ever hangs around there.”

“Jesus,” Louis breathes, brushing a hand through Harry’s hair and pulling Harry’s head back so he can look at him. “What did I do to you?”

“Are you gonna take me there or not?” Harry says with a roll of his eyes.

Louis shifts in response, picking Harry right up and causing Harry to squeal as he suddenly finds himself properly being carried with his legs wrapped around Louis and a shoulder where his forehead fits perfectly, not knowing if he’ll ever get used to how effortlessly the boy scoops him up.

“Harry?”

The question of his name gets them to come to a stop hesitantly, Harry turning his head over his shoulder to find Zayn having walked up to them. Harry’s slowly letting himself down off of Louis and moving to walk toward the boy after letting Louis know he can simply meet him over there by the nonfiction books.

“Yep?” Harry asks, joining his hands behind himself and rocking on his feet.

“Just checking in with you,” Zayn says with a shrug of one shoulder as he slides a hand into the pocket of his sweatpants. “You seemed a bit disoriented during the meeting.”

“Oh no, I’m fine,” Harry tells him, nodding his head with reassurance as he’s already backing away on his feet. “Juuust fine. Um…” He tousles his hair a bit as he looks behind himself, finding Louis nowhere since the section for nonfiction is a lot further back and in a secluded corner. “Louis and I have some studying to do, so…”

“Studying?” Zayn asks, taking one step forward just as Harry is preparing to turn around.

Harry quirks his eyebrows up at Zayn matter-of-factly. “Yes. Studying.”

“Louis hates studying.”

“Well obviously, you don’t know Louis as much as I do,” Harry replies confidently, although quickly tries to continue speaking once Zayn is looking overly doubtful. “He _happens_ to be trying to improve as a student currently, because he doesn’t want his parents to cut their funding for him.”

Zayn’s expression only subtly changes in the slowest of ways as he’s stood there, candle in front of his face making him almost more indecipherable than he usually is.

“Harry,” Zayn says, his voice sounding even calmer. “Louis is a straight A student. Perfect grades.”

Harry’s opening his mouth to speak before the boy has even finished, finding it ridiculous that he would even start just telling _desperate_ lies in an attempt to ruin their relationship.

“Come on, Zayn,” Harry sighs. “Will you give it up already?”

“Why would I be lying?” Zayn asks, eyebrows drawing together. “And if anything, his parents are pushovers. They don’t give a shit what he does over here.”

Harry has his arms folded over himself as he tries not to roll his eyes. He’s only stepping back on his heel and looking over his shoulder toward where Louis’ already disappeared to, not quite knowing why Zayn is so adamant on this whole ‘save Harry’ agenda he’s got going.

“I’m gonna go study with Louis,” is all Harry tells him, because it was a _lie_ in the first place anyway, so in fact, this whole conversation is something that didn’t really need to happen.

With that, he turns on his heel and starts away, desperate to find his boy by the dusted shelves that make up the back corner of the nonfiction literaure aisle. And sure enough Louis is there, seeming to be waiting patiently as he leans his back against one of the shelves with crossed arms and the messy hair of his that Harry never knew he’d grow to smile at so often. Harry is wasting no time before jumping on him with both hands around his neck, his lips already landing up under his jaw as Louis tells him “you’re an impatient little one, aren’t you”.

Louis’ walking forth and bringing Harry to stumble back until he’s half on top of a nearby study table, sealing their lips together and using one of his hands to hike Harry’s leg up.

Harry’s shrugging and working to pull off the jacket over his shirt as Louis’ suctioning wet lips against his own, Harry not even having died down a little bit from the fun they’d already started having not too long ago.

But of course, _something_ has to take place in order to prevent everything from just fully _happening_.

And it’s because of Louis, again. It’s as though his kisses against Harry’s mouth and upon his cheek and down the side of his neck come to a slow and hesitant stop, his body less eager to keep Harry pinned against the table, and Harry only urging it to continue by trying to glue his legs around the boy.

Harry’s panting just a bit when he’s searching Louis’ eyes with his own, tilting his head in the boy’s vicinity as he’s just now setting his jacket aside.

“What?” Harry breathes, focused closely on Louis’ eyes, one of Louis’ thumbs brushing at Harry’s bottom lip as the boy just keeps his drooped and tired eyes focused on Harry as well.

When he doesn’t get a real answer, just a deeply lustful look from Louis that indicates he clearly wants this, Harry’s moving slowly in order to maneuver himself. He keeps his gaze solely locked on Louis as he’s sliding himself away from the table a bit, just keeping both hands on the sides of the boy’s waist as he lets his back slide down against the edge of the table as he gets down on his knees. Louis watches him the whole way down, his hands playing through Harry’s hair and mussing it up as Harry’s got his chin tilted up to him, everything almost completely dark right now besides the blatant lustful shine of both of their eyes. Harry doesn’t even grant his gaze to his own fingers as they’re getting to the front of the boy’s pants, working to pop the button open at the top, all while Harry’s starry eyes are hypnotized by the swipe of Louis’ tongue over his lips as he watches it.

And then everything comes on. The lights, the computers, the printers—everything.

Harry actually lets his eyes close as he throws his head back with a huge exasperated breath.

“Okay, c’mon,” Louis says, snapping back to normal as well as he reaches down to tug Harry to his feet by his bicep. “I like being sneaky in public, but in broad daylight is pushing it for me.”

Harry just buries his face in his hands once he’s up to his feet, slumping forth to lay himself against Louis’ shoulder out of an agitation that he can not _scratch_. Sexual attraction is a very real thing and it is _screaming_ at Harry right now and pushing him towards this boy in a way it hasn’t done towards anyone in what feels like forever.

They eventually make their way out of the library along with many of the other students since the storm has passed and left behind mild rain. Louis and Harry are hand in hand, and Harry’s trying his best not to think about all the…things that are on his mind. Things that may or may not have to do with wanting to jump the boy's bones, but also things that may or may not have to do with how exactly he’s starting to _feel_ about…all this.

“Teach me to skate,” Harry says at some point, fingers warmly in between Louis’ as they walk alone on one of the huge streets that lead to his dorm building.

“Everything’s wet right now,” Louis replies, skateboard tucked up under his free arm.

Harry gestures to a sheltered area substantially ahead and off to the side, where he’s _always_ witnessed people hang out for lunches, outside classes, and even skateboarding. “It’s not wet under _there_.”

When Louis doesn’t say anything and is instead looking through his phone nonchalantly, Harry yanks on his joined hand a bit. “Come _on_. I wanna learn!”

When Louis’ still not granting him any sort of response (which is what he basically does when he wants Harry to stop talking) Harry finds himself with no other choice. In an instant, he’s swiping the skateboard away from the boy and taunting him with it as he runs backwards on his feet.

“ _Hey_ ,” Louis snaps.

“Catch me if you want it!” Harry shouts at him, although he speaks too soon because Louis proves himself to be quite fast, Harry only getting the message to _continue_ running once the boy is up to him in half a second and nearly already retrieving his skateboard.

They spend a lot of time in chase mode, Harry waving the boy’s skateboard in the air every time he gets away successfully, and Louis alternating between walking like he doesn’t care anymore and having these surges of speed where he nearly knocks Harry’s head off, even resorting to lifting the boy high in the air from behind in order to fully seize him and force him to drop the skateboard.

Harry does, but only after Louis agrees to teach him.

Which is why they find themselves under the shelter that Harry was gesturing towards earlier, Louis’ hands on either of Harry’s forearms as Harry holds onto him tightly for balance. Louis’ teaching the boy nothing more than the basic kick-push technique, and it’s actually really interesting and heartwarming to experience the way Louis’ extremely tender with him, Harry feeling like a deer learning to walk as he struggles to grasp it. And he _does_ grasp it—but only with Louis constantly spotting him through it however. The instant Louis doesn’t stand over him is the instant Harry falls right on his behind, but when the pain is subsiding and the first thing he sees, hunched over him and encompassing his sight are those warm blue eyes and tiny lips that twitch upward _just_ barely _,_ he’s ready to get back up and try it out all over again.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Today is _the_ day.

To many other people it might be the most annoying of days, the most obnoxious of days, or the most childish of days, but today is quite literally Harry’s favorite day.

Because it’s Valentine’s Day. A holiday that, in Harry’s book, triumphs over all others on the calendar, because Harry just loves _love_.

And he’s made it known today with the festive headband he has on with heart antlers that light up when he presses a button on the side of it to turn it on. He’s also baked frosted and decorated cookies to bring to the only class he has today as he walks with them in his arms, and the only thing brighter than his pink sweatshirt are his eyes whenever he comes across someone that’s visibly just as enthusiastic about the holiday as him as he strolls on campus.

He’s even giving cookies to the people that stop and say hi to him on his walk towards class, feeling that he made more than enough for everyone he may see today (even though they were getting quite sick of him in the communal dorm kitchen), and telling everyone to have an amazing day.

He doesn’t really expect to see Louis while on his way to his first class. The boy’s really supposed to be going another route, even though he clearly isn’t as his (new) backpack nearly drapes off of his shoulder and he’s performing tricks on his skateboard in front of one of the buildings, pretty much smack in the middle of the student pathway.

“ _Louis!”_ Harry says, skipping right up to the boy just as Louis’ taking notice of him.

Louis looks a bit caught off guard as he’s kicking his skateboard up and into his grasp.

“Do you know what today is?” Harry asks, blinking prettily at the boy as he sways forth on his feet, Louis coming to stand in front of him with a huge fraternity shirt on and baggy sweatpants. Harry holds his container of cookies against himself pointedly and switches his eyes between the cookies and the boy.

“Um—look like some sort of…weird, love alien thing today?” Louis asks, holding onto one strap of his backpack, before looking down on the container of cookies and changing his answer. “National baking day?”

“ _No_ , Louis,” Harry tells him with exasperation. “It’s _Valentine’s Day._ How could you not know that?”

Louis gestures at himself matter-of-factly. “Do I look like a Valentine’s Day person to you?”

“Well…” Harry begins, deflating and stepping back on his foot as he looks down at the cookies in his arms. “I thought since we’re supposed to be _together_ , you’d actually care about it this time around.”

“Like you do?”

“ _Yes_ , later on today I actually wanted us to ride the Ferris wheel they’re setting up. I told the activity council I would come,” Harry tells the boy, frustration on his face as Louis blinks at this information. “Because, you know, I actually _use_ my brain sometimes.”

Louis seems to be at a slight loss for words, Harry just rolling his eyes and looking someplace else while the boy fidgets at his feet. Then something’s appearing to light up in Louis’ mind, and the boy is quickly walking over in order to crouch down to wrap his fist around a few flowers in the grass, plucking them right out of the soil and jogging back up to Harry.

“Here you go,” he tells him, a proud grin forming on his lips as he holds out the dirt-stained, murdered daisies and orchids toward him.

“You just _killed_ those!”

“Oh my god, you can’t ever be satisfied,” Louis says disbelievingly, dropping his hand of flowers by his side. “ _Babe_.”

“Look _babe_ ,” Harry begins, almost talking through his teeth now as he’s stepping towards the boy and trying not to draw more attention to the people that are already fleeting their glances towards them. “Maybe I’d be _satisfied_ if you ever put in more effort.” And with that, he’s moving past Louis in order to continue towards his class, even ignoring how he hears Louis’ voice behind him asking if he could at _least_ get some cookies.

Although Harry’d started to be headed in more of a sour mood, things are already getting better once he’s gotten into his class and has given out his frosted cookies to all who will enjoy. Within ten minutes, he’s already received flowers and Valentine’s Day cards and lollipops from the people who _know_ and _care_ that today is one of Harry’s favorite days. Even his professor gives him a coupon for free cheesecake.

It’s when the class is actually starting up and Harry’s slipping into the seat he absolutely always sits in, that he sees something peculiar.

It’s on the surface of the seat and Harry only catches glimpse of it a millisecond before he would’ve sat on it. It’s simply a piece of paper, folded in half, but super crisp and full of texture.

Harry’s slowly sliding into his seat once he’s taking the note in his hand, the sound of his professor starting up the lecture fading into the background as he becomes especially bewildered with what this could be. Naturally, he opens it up, and what he finds inside has him blinking with entrancement. It’s simply some writing. In quite sharp and pristine ink, Harry might also add.

_You are whatever a moon has always meant,_

_And whatever a sun will always sing is you_

_-Edward C._

Harry’s stunned and wordless for a while after reading and absorbing it, the beautiful, flawless cursive of it, the _content_ of it, the fact that it was sitting _here_ , in his seat.

It’s a _love_ letter.

Harry’s just gotten a _love_ letter on Valentine’s Day, and it’s from someone who obviously writes _poetry_ , and his heart is absolutely _swooning_. Perhaps this whole fake relationship _is_ paying off, because Harry can not think of another time where this would’ve happened. Everyone mostly treats him like a child and won’t go after him because of his unofficial label as a “prude”. But _this_ …this shows that maybe people are starting to have a different outlook on him.

And as he’s bringing the letter to clutch against his chest and trying to keep his dimples away (he can’t), he just really wants to know who this “Edward C.” is. Whether he’s seen this person around, whether the person’s been admiring him from afar—it’s just too _much_ for his heart to handle.

“Wow, Harry’s got multiple Valentines lined up,” comes the voice of Sarah to the left of him, giggling with tease and instantly bringing Harry to _actually_ get rid of his dimples as he folds the card up and just shoves it in the folder of his open binder.

“No, I—“ Harry begins, shaking his head as he twiddles his thumbs upon the surface of the desk. “I love my boyfriend very much. My _one_ boyfriend.”

But even as he’s saying these words, all he can think about is this mystery man, and how he can’t wait to meet him.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“This is so stupid.”

It’s said by Louis whilst they’re taking two steps forward as they advance closer towards the front of the line, and at this point they’re not very far from finally being able to get on the Ferris wheel. A lot of couples have shown up tonight and the wheel looks quite pink and pretty as it’s nicely lit up in the late evening, Harry looking up at it with sparkling eyes as he feels small. 

Louis has also proclaimed that this is stupid and lame for the fifteen minutes they’ve spent in this line so far.

“I think you’ve gotten your point across,” Harry tells him, finally turning towards the boy and giving him the hostile reaction Louis probably wanted. “Just—just think of this as compulsory, just a fake relationship _thing_ that we’re going to get out of the way, and then you can go and do whatever the _heck_ it is you want to do, _without_ your boyfriend on Valentine’s Day.”

Louis goes a bit quiet as he stares back at Harry, Harry not knowing if it’s in slight surprise or what, as he simply adjusts the light up headband of heart antlers on his head and huffs profusely, followed by politely waving at one of his friends that he sees further down the line in the distance.

“I never said I wanted to be _without_ you on Valentine’s Day,” Louis replies eventually. “But did you ever consider what it is _I_ might want to do?”

“Well you never expressed wanting to do _anything_ on Valentine’s Day, so,” Harry begins with a shrug, clasping his hands in front of himself. “But whatever, we’ll do what you wanna do after this.”

Louis’ grin is nice and prideful after getting his way, Harry’s grin tight lipped and fake as they’re advancing forward in line and finally being met with the gate that’s being opened for them in order to allow them to enter and find a seat on the Ferris wheel.

Harry doesn’t make it past without hugging the girl he knows that’s working the Ferris wheel (he _loves_ absolutely every member of the activity council), and she’s enthusiastic about getting a picture of them before they board the Ferris wheel so that they can go in the school newspaper—which is something that would never happen under Louis’ watch, of course.

Louis’ stepping forth just as the girl had gotten a camera positioned in front of her face, the boy simply placing a gentle palm over the lense and speaking to the girl calmly.

“Do you still want this camera in one piece?”

She looks just a bit thrown as her eyes grow a bit, looking between Harry and Louis as she slowly lowers her camera, although all Harry can do is tuck some hair behind his ear and try to grin as politely as he can.

“Sorry, this is my boyfriend, and he doesn’t like that sort of stuff,” Harry says, reaching towards the boy in order to get their arms hooked. “Or…being nice.”

He’s leading them to board the Ferris wheel before much else can be said, Harry starting to feel particularly eager to get this ride out of the way, and _then_ quickly get through whatever else Louis is trying to do today. Really his ultimate goal is to spend whatever time he has left on Valentine’s Day watching romantic comedies in his dorm while tie-dying his old t-shirts.

And also probably doing some super detective work in order to find the love of his life, of course. The mysteriousness of _Edward C._ is even now poking at him where he's kept it in the back pocket of his jeans as he and Louis are taking a seat on the Ferris wheel.

Maybe Harry could even find him before the day is over, like right at midnight similar to something straight out of a movie. How romantic would _that_ be?

“No thank you,” Harry hears Louis saying to his left, which brings Harry to realize they’re being handed two roses, one for each of them.

Harry quickly turns his glare towards the boy, not understanding why he has to be dismissive and overly rude towards _everything,_ giving these nice people a hard time. “ _Louis_ ,” he hisses, reaching for the roses. “Just take it.” He doesn’t wait for the boy to take it however, grabbing both in his hands and then shoving one towards him instead.

“You know, since when are boyfriends this controlling?” Louis asks, taking the rose from Harry by the stem and tucking it behind his ear where a blunt would usually be. “Is this like some new wave of boyfriends, or something?”

“I dunno, it probably became a thing whenever boyfriends started being allowed to be irritating and horrible.”

“Oh, I’m so hurt.” His tone is drenched in sarcasm as he’s looking down over the bar that’s been placed over them once the machine gets moving, just to watch how high they raise from the ground like a child filled with wonder. “Now look down with me, they’re like ants.”

Even with a huff and resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Harry leans forth to gaze down, because he _would’ve_ done it eventually anyway. And it’s amazing how high the thing goes, even though it has to stop along the way in order to allow other people to get on. Even the ambient instrumental music is somewhere playing within the attraction, bringing them to a gentle hush. For _once_ today, it seems, he and Louis aren’t bickering over useless things, and Harry’s able to just breathe easily and without agitation, figuring that maybe Louis being quiet more often could be best for the both of them.

It’s when the wheel has stopped for quite a while and the both of them are swinging in the seat that Harry feels a bit of a tremor at his chest because of an action _Louis_ takes that he isn’t really expecting. It's happening slowly and reluctantly—so much so that out of the corner of Harry’s eye, he isn’t really sure of whether or not it's happening. But it’s definitely happening once Louis’ right hand, that’d been rested on top of the bar of the seat within a few inches of his, is coming over just to rest over Harry’s where it’s also rested comfortably. Harry doesn’t even realize he _was_ cold until his whole body is warming up from the spread that came with the innocent touch, Harry’s eyes blinking down on it, and very hesitant before they dance up to meet Louis, who barely shrugs one shoulder.

“So we look like boyfriends,” Louis says, although it’s a bit of a mumble as he scoots in, getting their fingers properly laced together.

Harry sort of blinks himself back to life a bit, although still holding his hand and not knowing why his warmth is feeling just a tad more suffocating right now. Their seat on the wheel starts moving at precisely the same time, seeming to properly start up without stopping, bringing a weird silence over the two of them as they’re climbing upwards towards the sky that’s gloriously darkened.

“I, um…” Harry begins, because he’d been meaning to tell Louis anyway and this dreamy music is poking at him. “I got a letter. Today.”

“Yeah?” Louis says, releasing his hand and instead moving to stretch his arm across Harry's back and over the seat, Harry coming in comfortably, and better able to just gaze at the sky as they approach it and then retreat from it. He's even able to relish the way the wind moves through Louis’ disheveled hair and causes it to kick around a bit.

“It was _so_ sweet,” Harry continues, not being able to stop smiling as the gleam shows in his eyes. “Like, it was a _love_ poem. From a guy named _Edward_. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Kinda corny if you ask me.”

Harry turns his chin up at the boy, Louis just quirking a nonchalant eyebrow up in response. “Of course _you_ would think that.” When Louis doesn’t reply and just turns his eyes back towards observing everything around him, Harry continues, because this is really something he’s been thinking about _all day_ , and he’s been needing an outlet for it, since to anyone else, they’d think he’s a douchebag for obsessing over some guy when he has a “boyfriend”. “I just wanna know who he _is_. I’ve been imagining him all day and I just _know_ he sits in flowers writing poetry all day—probably cares a lot about activism too, and he’s _deep_ , and _down to earth_ —“

“All that from one letter?”

“ _Yes,_ Louis,” Harry replies sternly. “Not everyone just goes around writing love poems to people on Valentine’s Day and leaving them in people’s classes so _mysteriously_. That’s something straight out of a classic eighties movie! Maybe it’s a gesture you aren't capable of pulling off, but thoughtful people are _out there_ , you know.”

Louis doesn’t respond in any fashion, and Harry isn’t in a position to observe what his facial expression is looking like, but he does hear a faintly heavy breath come from his lips, which Harry guesses is only because he’s made a point about how the letter _is_ awesome and worthy of all his praise.

Harry doesn’t know why, but at a certain point, something protrudes at his mind just a bit, causing his brows to furrow together slightly and for him to become a smidge out of it for a moment, twiddling the rose stem in his hand.

“Um…” Harry begins, attempting a short-lived laugh. “Zayn had told me the other day, like…he—“

They’re interrupted by the ride suddenly stopping. Harry hadn’t even known they were back at the bottom and fully done with it as they’re now being approached so that the bar can be lifted off of them, Louis removing his arm from around Harry.

“Told you what?” Louis asks as they’re sliding down, being ushered toward the exit gate.

“Uh…it’s probably so stupid, so I don’t even know why he would say it,” Harry laughs, the both of them stepping down and having their shoes settled upon the gravel. “But he was saying—“

Harry’s having a pink teddy bear with a bowtie shoved into his arms and cutting his sentence right off, this time _another_ member of the council not being gentle in pushing them together and grabbing the camera he has hanging around his neck.

“I don’t really—“

Harry’s interrupting Louis before he can finish, slightly elbowing him in the arm, even though Louis reacts to it overdramatically, rubbing the area and mouthing the word _ow_.

“Please?” Harry says, his voice small although it’s desperate for Louis to cooperate and do one thing, just _one_ thing today that’s the opposite of being a grouch that’s no fun at all.

Louis complies, although definitely doesn’t take the time to put a smile on his face as the picture is taken in half a second. Harry barely even has time to kiss the bear on the cheek like he wanted to for the picture, and then he’s being ushered away by Louis taking a hold of his hand, the boy checking his phone as though he’d just gotten a notification for something important.

“Now, _my_ version of Valentine’s Day fun.”

Harry tries not to huff and puff as he’s stumbling behind a rather speedy Louis, figuring he just has _one_ more thing to drag himself through before he’s able to start looking for his mystery soulmate.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s a fight night.

Pi Zeta is having one of their fight nights, which is this _horrible_ thing they do occasionally where the boys just get in their backyard and fight in quite an organized way. Harry’s always _hated_ it, hated how Zayn’s supposed to be a smart guy and would sometimes show up out of the blue with a blackened eye, proclaiming how great he feels because he won against Aaron. 

And _this_ is what Louis’ idea of fun is on Valentine’s Day. Harry’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with Valentine’s Day. It’s just something that’s happening today that he doesn’t want to miss, so he’s trying to string it along as something they can do together. Harry doesn’t even know why Louis is _choosing_ to engage in it, since the boys are never forced to, although Louis gave him somewhat of a "reason"; during their walk to the frat house the boy just claimed Will told him he’d never win in a match with him, and now it’s apparently a “pride thing” where he has to prove him wrong.

“Can’t you just turn the other cheek and not have to prove anything to anyone?” Harry is asking, just as he’s following Louis through the front door of the house (there are _still_ a few untouched messes from the Luau Bash), already hearing all the commotion going on towards the backyard.

“Yeah, if life were a children’s afterschool special movie,” Louis’ replying, moving towards the backyard door to slide it open as Harry holds the teddy bear to his chest, the both of their roses now tucked into his light up headband. “This is also good for me. Sort of therapeutic, you know? Gets rid of pent up frustration.”

Harry twists his face up at that a bit, just as they’re stepping out to join the rest of the boys in the backyard and they’re all rising in volume with cheer and slaps of Louis’ shoulder at the fact that he’s decided to join the game tonight. He didn’t know Louis was holding in pent up frustration, or that he was even that sort of type.

He’s only slightly pleased not to see Zayn anywhere, the boy probably somewhere being _productive_ and _romantic_ with his boyfriend on a day like today, instead of getting punched in the face for fun. God, Harry is practically counting down the seconds to where he can find out who Edward C. is and get this whole thing over with.

The only thing slightly romantic about it is that Louis’ kissing him on the mouth before it’s his turn to go into the center with Will, catching Harry quite off guard with how indecent it is as well, although Harry’s not able to process it before it’s already over and Louis' receiving congratulatory shoves at his shoulders.

He’s sat on the grass with his legs crossed under him and the teddy bear hugged to his chest, somewhat on the outskirts of everything but still being able to see it as the boys hover around and root each other on, and he’s taking a moment to question what it is he’d done to be brought to this exact moment, watching boys fight like wild hyenas on Valentine’s Day. Usually he does try to stay positive about every and anything but he thinks his patience is running thin, especially with this whole thing being fake and Harry having been introduced to a glimpse of a future where he has a poetic, deep, thoughtful boyfriend.

Louis can fight though, at least. And it _only_ sits well with Harry because he doesn’t want to see the boy hurt, even though it’s bittersweet because Will gets hurt pretty badly. He actually ends up body slammed into the grass and unable to move for an alarming amount of time where Harry rises to his knees with concern. But no, it’s okay eventually—the boys even claim there’s no _need_ to call an ambulance.

Although one would think Louis would just stop there since he’s made the point he was trying to make, he of course lets it get to his head as he stays for another round, challenging anyone to enter the center with him just in case they don’t think they can get beat up.

Harry makes use of himself by pulling the note out of his back pocket, simply reading over it as he holds it down in his lap and makes himself excited for the future. It even causes a grin to pull at his lips, Harry seeming to forget where he is altogether as the grunting, and the thudding, and the chanting fade all around him.

Harry doesn’t even know how long it is before he brings his eyes up and away from the note again, but it seems he does it just as Louis’ _finally_ checking out of the “ring”. Everything about him, his hair, and his dirt-stained clothes is significantly messier as it appears Jeff _entering_ the ring has finally inspired him to tap out. But he’s glancing over at Harry just as Harry had glanced up towards him, and just barely—Harry honestly doesn’t even know how he sees it from here now that it’s dark out—his eyes flutter down towards the letter Harry’s holding. And then he’s turning back around, right into the fighting circle _again_.

Harry’s lips only part in preparation to utter _something_ but it seems the boys are beating him to it as they’re telling Louis he should just tap out while he’s ahead and that he shouldn’t go toe to toe with this guy, everyone seeming to be in agreement of that, even as Louis waves them off and shoves up his sleeves. Harry draws his eyebrows together in frustration, not understanding why Louis is doing this to himself. Surely he should have an idea of who is _way_ out of his range on a scale of a fair fight, and Jeff is one of them.

And it’s proven quite quickly once they’re getting started, and although Louis impressively dodges a few of his punches and just barely makes the boy budge with a shove at his shoulders, the way he gets tackled into the ground and drove into the dirt like a rag doll is something that brings about a collective gasp.

Harry’s getting all the way up now, two of the boys having rushed to help Louis up, while Louis is proclaiming “I’m fine, get the fuck off of me”. He's even insisting that they continue.

“Louis, _stop_ ,” Harry finds himself saying, not even expecting to be as loud as he ended up being as he’s walking up. The gradual ways that the eyes turn back to look at him is something that Harry tries not to cower under, still holding the teddy bear in one hand and the love letter in the other. “This is stupid. Like, you don’t have to do this.”

“ _This_ is something you’d never understand,” Louis tells him sternly, the boys seeming to make way for them as things are quieting down. “It’s a guy thing.” He’s slumped over with his hands over his knees to steady himself even as he’s trying to defend this, Harry’s breath catching a bit at the clearly hurtful words, although he attempts to stand tall in the midst of it.

“This is something I don’t want to _ever_ understand,” Harry replies, his tone going harsh. “Clearly you need some sort of serious therapy.”

“How about you just go back to being a pretty little cheerleader on the sideline—actually, you _were_ a cheerleader at some point, weren’t you?” Louis asks, now taking his time in fully standing up, bringing about little bouts of laughter that the boys clearly try to stifle as Harry lets his mouth open with hurt. “Or better yet, go back to reading your stupid love letter.”

“It’s not stupid—“

“ _Oooh_ , Harry’s got a mistress?” comes the voice of Cedric, Harry shaking his head and already trying to put an end to the verbal teasing and whistling that’s about to start.

“No, I—“ Harry begins, feeling endlessly frustrated as he gestures with the now wrinkled letter in front of him. “I just got this _poem_ from some guy today, but it doesn’t matter—“

“I have to see this.” The emergence of Niall’s voice comes just as he’s walking up and snatching it right out of Harry’s grasp, reading it closely and even having Cedric looking over his shoulder nosily. Harry just looks down at his shoes in defiance, feeling pretty down right now about Louis’ sudden brash meanness and just wanting to go home.

“Edward, Edward, Edward,” Niall begins, looking up and snapping his fingers as though trying to jog his memory.

“I don’t care about who it is—“

“Isn’t there this junior named Ed who’s really into shit like that?” The question comes from Avery, and then everything sort of turns into an emergence of the boys piecing details together in a popcorn fashion, Harry not even knowing why they’re being so cooperative in trying to find this mystery guy for him.

“Yeah, he always sits against trees and reads _books_ —“

“And eats apples. He’s so weird.”

“It has to be that dude. No idea if his last name starts with a 'C' though.”

Even through Harry's willingness to curb his enthusiasm, the familiar image of the exact guy they're talking about materializes in his mind. Harry's definitely familiar with the shadowy boy they’re referring to, who can be found sitting at a different tree on any given day and looking cryptic in his dark clothing. He’d never known the guy’s name, though.

Harry’s trying with everything in him not to show a speck of interest on his face though, not only for the sake of their fake relationship, but because Louis has been dead silent through all of this, only looking darker in his eyes with every passing second as his face turns into one of stone cold hostility. Harry doesn’t even think he’s seen the boy look this…cold in the face before. Like yeah, he’s usually on the less polite side, but this…this is beyond that.

“Ed is your secret admirer!”

Harry’s met with tons of congratulatory slaps to his shoulder, jostling him around as he stays defiant to engaging in any of it. He doesn’t even know how it’s possible to feel so down on himself right now after finding out this news.

“You’ve got your answer,” Louis says eventually, although it’s said quite lowly and calmly, bringing the boys to quiet bit by bit as they turn to watch him now taking a swig of a beer he'd grabbed from Jack and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Guess there’s no reason for us to continue this dead relationship anymore.”

Harry’s a bit taken back by the bluntness of it, the way the boy has essentially hinted at their breakup in front of _everyone_ here. It’s even almost pin drop quiet as the brothers aren’t sure if this is an actual serious fight, and honestly, Harry’s not sure either. What he _is_ sure of, is how Louis’ words are making him feel.

“So what…what, that’s how easily you drop me?” Harry asks, his voice weak even though he tries to get the words out strongly, teddy bear held to his chest again. “Just because of some _guy_ I don’t even know who sends me a stupid letter?”

“A stupid letter that you’ve been jumping out of your socks for since this morning,” Louis replies, impassioned as Harry’s lips part.

“Maybe that’s because I actually _got_ something _thoughtful_ from someone on _Valentine’s Day,_ something my own _boyfriend_ couldn’t even do!”

“Like dragging a pen against a piece of paper takes so much _thought_!” Louis says with a scoff. “You’re just excited by the smallest of things, like a pathetic little child.”

“You’re a jerk,” Harry just fires with, stalking forth in order to shove the stupid bear in Louis’ arms and move to walk away, pushing through these festering frat boys and prepared to go back to his dorm where there _aren’t_ wrestling idiots and useless bickering about fake relationships.

He’s only halfway through the den when he can hear himself being followed from behind, Louis sliding the backyard door closed behind himself.

“What is your deal?” Louis asks.

Harry whips around in an instant, setting a hand against the back of the nearest couch as he furrows his eyebrows at Louis sternly, the boy now void of the beer can and teddy bear he was holding. 

“ _My_ deal?”

“That’s what I asked, didn’t I?”

“ _You’re_ my deal!” Harry exclaims, feeling the tears sting at his eyes prematurely as Louis folds his arms over his chest and steps toward him. “Did you have to say all those hurtful things? Like…even though…just because this is a… at the very _least_ I thought you were my friend—at the _least_.” He can’t help the way he sniffles just a bit, still trying with everything in him to hold it all together.

“I told you that regardless of anything, I’m gonna speak the truth—“

“Do you speak the truth, or are you just an asshole?” Harry asks, nostrils flared as he sniffles some more, eyes profusely wet by now, although the tears aren’t trailing down yet.

Louis actually appears a bit moved by Harry’s choice of word, his eyes dimming out just a bit as they hold gaze. Normally he wouldn’t even expect Louis to care if someone were to say something like that to him, but now, he definitely seems to have been affected, if only a little bit.

“Harry, there’s a very real reason why you’re my fake boyfriend, and not my actual boyfriend,” Louis begins, speaking carefully. “We’re too different. If I wasn't getting anything out of it, do you really think I’d ever put myself through someone who does things like squeal at the moon? I could never genuinely like you.”

Although Harry’s just felt a stabbing pain of hurt like an actual knife, he’s still going to try and keep it together, because Louis cannot see him _crumble_ damn it. Doing that would only prove that throughout this whole thing, Harry hasn’t changed a bit, and he’s still a flower pot that could shatter if it falls two centimeters.

“Are you gonna cry?” Louis asks tauntingly, tilting his head at the boy.

“No, I’m…” Harry begins, sniffling. “I’m just gonna say that you _suck_. And you’re one of the few people I hate.”

“Harry, I’m pretty sure you know I don’t actually care about that.”

“Well you should,” Harry responds, setting his eyes on the boy and still struggling to sound strong.

“I don’t think I could ever care about the opinions of someone who has light up hearts floating over their head right now.”

“At least I’m honest to who I _am_!” Harry snaps, tired of the jabs. “And at least I don’t _lie_ for no reason about dumb things, like my parents not supporting me.”

At this, Louis is quieted just a bit, but not for reasons Harry may believe. He actually looks a bit amused, as the tiny grin spreads from his lips in a microscopic and languid way, and then suddenly he’s letting out genuine laughter, his fingertips splayed over his lips as he fails at keeping it all in.

“Harry,” Louis begins, shaking his head solemnly. “You wanna know the truth.”

Harry can’t help the way his jaw clenches just a bit, his insides feeling fragile because of how he doesn’t quite know what’s going on. How he’s starting to not even know the boy in front of him. But all he does is simply nod his head whilst swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I told you that so I could seem like I had a reason,” Louis begins, speaking bluntly. “I just wanted to have sex with you.”

The literal way Harry’s heart actually feels like it drops is a sensation he’s truly never felt before. He even can’t keep it off of his face very much as his lips are parting and his eyebrows are expressive with his hurt, Louis seeming like he doesn’t care as he kicks his shoes at the ground and looks down at his feet. Harry can’t even use his mouth to actually say anything, out of fear that he’ll burst into tears.

“Yeah, this whole thing was pretty much a plan to eventually fuck you,” Louis continues, shrugging one shoulder and stretching out his sleeves. “Which I never really got to _fully_ do, so. Are we done here?”

Louis’ bringing his gaze back up to him, shoulders slumped and his eyes not bearing even a trace of remorseful emotion in regards to the way he’s just exposed his true intention. Harry can’t see anything in even the curves of the boy’s lips that may hint at the fact that this _isn’t_ genuinely him. That there’s any part of him that feels bad right now. And it shatters Harry’s heart.

It’s hard not to show it as he just keeps his shaking lips closed and breathes shakily through his nose, wanting to say _something_ and _anything_ just to redeem himself and his dignity right now, but he can’t. He simply can’t.

He actually finds himself turning around to storm off, just needing to be away from the boy before he bursts into tears. The tears are only starting down his cheeks once he’s barely out of the front door of the frat house, bringing himself to brace his palms against the railing on the front porch as the water starts to drip from his eyes at a high amount.

It’s a sincere and genuine cry as he just looks down at his white-tensioned knuckles where he’s gripping the railing, trying to attempt to keep the tears away as he sniffles and hiccups in his breaths.

Louis never even liked him as a friend. He’d been plotting from the start, and Harry should’ve listened to Zayn and Liam in the first place.

At the perfect moment it seems, Harry’s being approached by whoever it is that’s about to pass him on their way inside the frat house, and Harry doesn’t even try to hide his tears or cover his face. Whoever this is will know he’s crying anyway.

But he’s definitely pretty relieved when he’s looking up and it’s Zayn, one strap of his backpack heavy on his shoulder as he’s paused where he’s only gotten one foot on the step up onto the front porch of the house.

“Just…” Harry starts, breath shuddering as he wipes away at his cheek. “Can we admit you were right and skip to the part where you make me feel better?”

Zayn finally steps up onto the porch, looking visibly torn at seeing Harry like this, as well as a bit confused. 

“Harry…” he says, gently setting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What happened?”

Harry takes a moment to let out a long breath, his cheeks still wet-stained as he turns to face the boy with reddened eyes. Zayn is watching him closely, his eyebrows curved in a sad way and his attention solely focused on figuring out what’s brought Harry stress and how to fix it. Harry’s so stupid for not having known he always has good intentions for him.

“Louis,” Harry says simply, Zayn already rolling his eyes as he hikes his backpack up on his shoulder.

“What’d he do?”

“I mean, it’s not really his _fault_ —“ Harry starts, another wipe at his cheek. “Because you guys told me he probably just wanted me for sex and I didn’t listen—“

Harry can’t even finish speaking before Zayn’s moving past him, determination like a switch as it shows on his face while he’s walking right into the frat house.

“ _Zayn_ ,” Harry calls after him, already following the boy back inside. The boy is way ahead of him and stalking right through the living room toward the den that leads to the backyard, not even giving anything else his slight attention on the way there.

“What, you guys are having another one of your fight nights?” Zayn is asking, and even though it should be a casual question, it comes out of his mouth intimidating and powerfully confrontational as he steps on the grass where the boys _are_ indeed still having their fight night, this time Patrick and Cedric being the ones getting ready to throw down. They look slightly thrown at Zayn’s brash entrance, answering him hesitantly and murmuring over each other.

“I wanna join,” Zayn says, letting his backpack drop down to the grass once he shrugs it off. “New round. Me and Louis.”

“Zayn, c’mon,” Harry sighs, stood by the doorframe to the backdoor and just wanting to cry even more because of the drama of it all. “I don’t want this.”

Louis doesn’t seem too shaken up by it, even though the boys make way for him where he’d been seeming to mind his own business and kick around a soccer ball. He’s come to a stop now, looking at Zayn with sort of an entertained curve of lips, as though he doesn’t think the boy is serious.

“Come on, Louis. You and me.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Louis is scoffing, stepping away from where he’d been standing with his foot on top of the soccer ball, walking forth toward the boy even though there’s still a great deal of distance between the two of them. “What are you, his _boyfriend_ or something? You might wanna let Liam know that information.”

“You know, you can hide behind your sarcasm, and being a douchebag, but it’s not going to make you any less of a shitty person that everyone hates,” Zayn tells him, the boys around seeming to get even quieter, watching the exchange. Harry’s long given up by now, just slumping against the doorframe with his arms over his chest and his nose still sniffling. “I'd be surprised if you didn't hate yourself. Seriously, get help.”

And with that, he’s not letting a second linger before swiping his backpack back up from the ground and turning back in order to enter the frat house, not acknowledging Harry with his eyes or stopping by him, but definitely telling the boy “come on”, to which Harry turns around on his heel to follow the boy back in and presumably up to his room—but not after he does the thing he can’t help of letting his eyes linger on Louis before he succumbs to turning around. Even all the way from here, Louis being seen going back to kicking at a soccer ball without a care in the world, Harry can’t see anything with even a trickle of regret in his eyes. He can’t see anything he’d seen before.

Not too long afterward, he’s in Zayn’s bedroom, which is the only bedroom he ever even used to know of in this house before he’d gotten involved with Louis. The boy has long ago gotten strawberry ice cream from the freezer downstairs and Harry’s digging a spoon right into the tub as he sits with the boy on his bed and tries not to get his tears in the dessert. He’s even finally taken off his stupid heart headband that simply isn’t matching his mood anymore.

Zayn has provided him with all the hugs and the caressing of his head against his shoulder and the stroking of his hair that could probably last him a lifetime, and even so, Harry’s still trying to steady his hiccuping breath as Zayn has succumbed to the homework he has to do, although he’s still sitting with his legs crossed under himself the same as Harry, his work assignments and notebooks sprawled on his lap.

Harry had also told him all about how everything was fake. Zayn deserves to know just how right he is about pretty much absolutely everything. Perhaps Harry _does_ need the boy to guide him.

“I started to like him, you know,” Harry says at some point, before bringing a spoonful of strawberry ice cream into his mouth.

“I think I can tell, Harry,” Zayn replies, although there’s a grin at a tiny corner of his mouth that gets Harry to chuckle sadly too. “But he’s shit. He always has been and always will be. I put up with him like a shitty brother.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees halfheartedly, looking down and zoning out a bit as his thoughts drift. “But like…I felt like he was kind of different sometimes. With like—me, though…” He brings his bloodshot eyes back up to Zayn, Zayn just closing his own eyes for a second as though taking it in. “Was I wrong? I could’ve sworn he had a good heart—I could like…see it, deep down, and stuff.”

“Well Harry, it’s not your job to tap into people,” Zayn tells him, looking at him with a sincere gaze. “Leave the fixing up to someone else.”

Harry doesn’t have anything to say to refute that, so all he does is dig his spoon into his ice cream again and try to mentally let go of this whole situation.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I just…” Harry starts, letting out a breath and slumping with his fist against his cheek. “I need… _something_. Like—I need something new. I don’t even know what it is but I’m craving it.” 

He’s closing his eyes with frustration as he sits at one of the student picnic tables with Zayn and Liam, nowadays having come to terms with how most of his life consists of third wheeling them. He just never realized it because they are mindful of being too affectionate around others and because Zayn tries to actually make him feel included. But the reality is still true; Harry is often their third wheel.

“You’ve said that, like, three times now,” Liam replies, tossing around his salad with his fork as he sits across from Harry.

“Yeah, but that’s because it keeps poking at me,” Harry says, curling his fingers up briefly and looking down at his own full container of vegetarian linguine. “I’m _bored_.”

“I have no idea how you could be bored between Peace Committee meetings twice a week, _and_ being in charge of our safe space event _, and_ staying on top of your grades, _and_ doing every extra credit assignment that’s offered, as you usually do,” Zayn tells him, sandwich he’d just bitten into half hanging out of his mouth as he’s getting the words out. “You’re practically begging to be overloaded.”

The way Zayn is putting it, it _doesn’t_ make sense that Harry is as bored and craving as he is, but it’s simply what he just _feels_. 

“I don’t know…” he says with a tired sigh, eyes wandering towards the students throwing frisbees on the grass nearby. “I just—oh my _god_.”

He’s out of his seat before anyone can even question him, running for the disc that’s headed to hit a girl square in the back of her neck where she sits unknowingly at a table full of her friends. He feels like something of a superhero as he’s scrambling to intercept, which he does _successfully_ , although it results in a wild loss of control of his stumbling feet as he’s falling over himself with the frisbee clutched to his chest.

He’s panting pretty wildly once he’s hit the ground, his eyes slowly opening. He’s only a tad discombobulated when he’s turning his chin up to look at this person he’s landed so close to—the person’s outstretched leg within just a _hair_ of his head. And he’s even more iffy when he sees that it’s no other than the guy who is apparently named _Ed_ , sat against a tree and seeming to be reading a novel in the midst of eating his lunch. He’s understandably looking at Harry with furrowed brows, because this boy had just abruptly fallen into his space without a warning, but all Harry can think about is how _this_ is the boy who’d supposedly given him the letter on Valentine’s Day. Harry hadn’t _forgotten_ about it, per se, but he hadn’t been making an effort to seek him out. All the drama of that day just simply burned out his enthusiasm. That day and everything in it is pretty much cursed.

“Hi,” Harry says, only slightly out of breath as he moves to sit up and get his face right-side up instead of looking at the man upside down.

“Hello,” Ed says, bringing his outstretched leg up to himself. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, yes, um,” Harry begins, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes for a moment, because he doesn’t even know if he’s emotionally _prepared_ to come face to face with a secret admirer, but he’s _literally_ fallen into him, so he’ll just go for it. “Let me just…” He can’t even properly speak about it, not knowing how to do so without being frazzled as he just scrambles to get the letter out of his wallet from his pocket, the poor thing severely crumpled and battered by now, although the sentiment of it still stays the same.

He’s spreading it open, Ed looking beyond puzzled behind his reading glasses as this whole thing is going down, which is granting Harry a bit of relief, because maybe he _isn’t_ going to have to face a secret admirer right now.

“Did you write me this?” Harry asks meekly, the letter now covering the bottom of his face as he shows it to him. “On Valentine’s Day?” He speaks quickly in order to fill the half second silence, trying to keep the blush off of his face. “I didn’t think so, but the boys at Pi Zeta were convincing me it was you, so—I just wanted to ask, you know.” 

The face on Ed definitely doesn’t look like the face of a man in love, but it also doesn’t look like the face of a man in disgust as he blinks forth at the ink-written words on the letter, leaned forth just a bit away from the tree.

“That’s extremely sweet, but I didn’t write it,” the guy says with bright eyes, looking pleased however as he sits back against the tree, Harry not knowing if he himself sighs with relief or exhaustion. He kind of wanted _something_ to fill this hole he’s been starting to come to terms with, but it’s okay. Maybe he’ll find out who his secret admirer is one day.

“ _But_ —“ Ed starts, seeming to suddenly remember something as he blinks upwards at nothing and adjusts his glasses over the bridge of his nose. “I remember there was this dude—this dude that was really into E.E. Cummings—“

“E.E. _What?"_ Harry asks, those sounds not ringing a bell to him.

“Edward Estlin Cummings,” Ed replies, looking a bit confused as he gestures forth at the letter. “That’s the poet that originally wrote that. Actually one of the most famous love poems of all time.”

And wow, Harry is really an idiot. _Edward C._ wasn’t even the name of the guy who wrote this mysterious love note. His secret admirer could literally be _anyone_ at this point.

“But, I remember there was this _guy_ in one of my writing classes who used to do _all_ his assignments on him.”

“Who?” Harry asks, not even disguising how eager he is.

Ed looks a bit apologetic as he lets his hands slump in his lap. “Can’t pay me to remember his name, I’m bad at those things,” he replies. “I just know that he was at the top of our class, and Mrs. Hartling loved him… _and_ —he was also always carrying around this rusty skateboard.”

The word is coming out of Harry’s mouth as an instant reaction, with hardly a sound. “Huh?”

“Yeah, that’s all I remember.”

The scale of how Harry’s eyes grow in size is opposite of the way his mouth closes, still holding the letter in the exact same way over the bottom half of his face for no particular reason. Ed even looks inclined to wave a hand at him and ask him if he’s still alive, but Harry’s just sat there and thoroughly glazed over by this information.

“Oh,” Harry responds eventually, the response breathed out as he folds the letter back up in order to shove it into his wallet. He disregards Ed’s slightly incredulous facial expression as though he believes he did something to bring about this reaction, Harry just getting back to his feet and preparing to return the frisbee back to its original owners so they can continue their game.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Our safe space event is this weekend!” Harry’s yelling with glee, spraying someone with confetti (that he knows as a friend of course) as they stride past the Peace Committee booth on campus. “ _I_ put this one together, so I’d really love it if you came!”

Hyatt is hardly even finished telling him he’ll definitely be there when Harry’s onto the next person he sees eyeing their booth, handing her a wrapped up brownie, a flier, and brief rehearsed details of the event this weekend where they’re hosting a safe space activity center. He's making sure to let her know it’s _only_ for people who “fall under the LGBTQ plus umbrella” but she’s free to donate if she’s simply an ally, as well as tell _anyone_ she knows who could possibly come.

This is quite literally one of his favorite things to do—actually taking _action_ in regards to things he cares about and getting other people to join and become informed—and even though this isn’t currently filling that _something_ that Harry’s been feeling like he’s missing lately, it’s putting a smile on his face as he’s encouraging the students of their school to get involved. He’s even jumpy and excited when the pom squad is passing by and littering him with hugs, along with some even helping him to distribute fliers while they make up chants and cheers on the spot.

He’s only dimmed out briefly when some guy is sizing him up like a piece of meat on the way past, clearly eager for Harry to approach him with details on this thing he’s obviously telling everyone else about. All Harry does once the guy is coming towards him, however, is step back on his feet and tell the creep “walk past me, please.”

“How are we supposed to get participants with you doing things like that?” Liam asks with a laugh, halfheartedly holding out fliers as though someone’s going to care enough to run up to him and take one.

“I just don’t give attention to crummy boys anymore,” Harry says proudly, flashing his smile at Liam. “Saves me a lot of time in the long run.”

“We raised you well,” Liam replies, equally as proudly.

Harry’s beaming with his shoulders up to his ears before turning back towards the rush of students in order to harass the next person he sees—but it’s unfortunate when the next person he sees, _just_ passing by him, is Louis, skateboard tucked underneath his arm and hair even more disheveled as he wears a bandana around it like a headband.

Harry was literally in the midst of blindly holding out a flier, receiving a “leave me alone” in passing by Louis who continues his stride, Harry’s mouth just automatically responding with “sorry” as he makes the half-second decision of retracting his hand back towards himself, stumbling back on his feet at the same time and feeling tight-chested and quite unsure about everything in a span of three seconds. He’s even dumbfounded after Louis is far past by now, not having looked up toward their “lame” booth even a little bit.

Harry can’t help the way his eyes just linger on the boy’s retreat, even as more potential attendees brush past him on the student pathway. He just holds the flier to himself and tries to choke back down the emotional _something_ in his throat. He catches sight of Liam seeing _him_ , and all he does is raise an eyebrow and grin mechanically, before turning back to look for more students to inform of the fundraising events.

God, why did he say sorry? It’s _Louis_ who should be saying sorry.

Yeah, Harry’d gotten some pretty revealing information about who might’ve written him the letter on Valentine’s Day, but it doesn’t change the fact that Louis had said so many hurtful things that day. Things that outweigh the way that letter made him feel.

Or at least, he thinks.

He doesn’t know, actually. What he _does_ know is that Louis hasn’t reached out to him or even shown an _interest_ in reaching out to him since that day, and it’s been three weeks. Harry’s not going to poke around where he’s not wanted. It’s just over, and he’s going to accept that.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Harry’s slumped over with an elbow on the kitchen island, his seat rotating under him as he only brings his lips down to his straw, rather than bringing the drink up to himself. It’s a Friday, they’ve sold enough tickets to their safe space event, so Harry felt there was no reason _not_ to hang with Zayn and allow Niall to mix together the “fruit punch” that Harry was so obsessed with that night at the Luau Bash. Harry figures who cares at this point. He’s already tainted as a non-drinker, and Niall was eager to appease him due to feeling somewhat guilty about the whole situation (even though he wouldn’t say that directly). All the guys in this frat do, really, since they all know the truth. Harry just didn’t feel like lying anymore, and even came to realize pretty quickly that Louis was proud to tell them he just wanted sex anyway.

“Can I join your relationship?” Harry asks, straw resting at his lips as he blinks his heavy eyes toward where Zayn is sitting next to him, Niall laughing as he’s shoving chips in his mouth while holding the fridge open.

“Since when are you unable to survive without a relationship?”

Harry huffs, taking another heavy sip out of his glass. “I know, it’s just—I’d never had a boyfriend before, and now…I guess, I’ve _still_ never had a boyfriend before—“

“It’s still _wild_ , that you guys made it all up and we actually _bought_ it,” Niall says with a chuckle, giving up on the fridge as he shuts it and turns back toward the kitchen island with a huge bag of barbeque chips held to himself. “You guys are great actors, I’ll give you that.”

Harry forces a short lived on grin on his lips as his head feels heavy with the buzz he has going on, already knowing that his emotions and true inward feelings are on their way to tumble out of his mouth.

“A _bright_ side to it though, is that Louis didn’t let anyone in on _his_ plan,” Niall points out, now rested on both of his elbows across from them. “He was only super douchey and kept it to himself while fake dating you. But not super _super_ douchey, you know?”

Harry swallows down some more of the tangy drink, pretty much used to Zayn’s frat brothers and how they sometimes make no sense while making a little bit of sense. If it’s supposed to make Harry feel good, it really just doesn’t. It makes him feel something, but definitely not an improved mood.

“I miss having my hair played with,” Harry says, biting down on his bottom lip and closing his eyes carefully, as though he can just _feel_ it if he thinks hard enough. “Like…the specific way _he_ would. I just…” He’s small and caved in on himself, eyes dead set on the counter below him as he just speaks without giving it much thought. “I just miss him a lot. And I don’t give a care what you guys think about that, honestly.”

He’s met with no words, maybe only Niall stifling a giggle, but everything besides himself is a bit fuzzy as he’s sinking deeper into the emotions of it, tousling up his hair so that it piles on one side of his head, just _wishing_ it could be touched again.

“It sucks,” he adds, now a bit hidden behind his hair.

“Does being here make it worse?” Zayn asks, setting a hand against Harry’s arm with care. “We can go.”

He can understand Zayn’s concern, since Harry’s been acting bulletproof up until now. And yeah, that’s what he does, he’s Harry, he smiles, and he gets through the low mood days, and he’s always trying to uplift other people’s spirits by keeping himself high above the sky, but the truth is, he’s been going through a lot in his mind. He’s been going through it _bad_. Just the knowledge that the boy doesn’t even care enough to initiate any conversation with him again just freaking _stings_. The memory of how he didn’t express any regret. The memory of how excited Harry openly was about the secret admirer being some _other_ guy. It all just hurts, and so bad.

“No, I…” Harry begins, slumping his face in his palm and sliding his glass towards himself. “I’m fine. Can we just talk about something else now?”

“Well, I failed my psychology midterm. We can talk about that,” Niall says with quirked eyebrows, seamlessly heeding Harry’s request without a second thought before he shoves some more of the chips in his mouth. Zayn's fittingly incredulous about how Niall's professor is one of the easiest ones there are on campus, and Harry even finds it in himself to let the boy know he shouldn’t just be failing tests as though it’s nothing.

And they’re only able to flit through conversations and allow others to join in while they enter in and out of the kitchen, as long as it takes for the wrong person to walk into the house, done with his classes and coming in at this time as usual. Like he usually would before Harry even got tangled up with him, and only knew him as that guy he shared a class with once who’s in his best friend’s frat. 

Since it’s been long enough, no one reacts to it awkwardly once he’s entered the house, instilling the atmosphere with tension for no reason—they actually don’t even react to it all, Harry being the only one that turns his eyes toward the boy’s entrance from the front door, taking notice of how everything slows for a moment, the dizzying shove of Will against his arm teasing him about something he can no longer hear, the conversations low and sluggish, it all just halts around—Louis.

Harry’s sliding himself down from the chair by the island without much rush, Zayn on the other side of the kitchen now as he wraps Niall in a playful chokehold for a reason Harry can’t remember. 

Harry just goes. Lets his feet lead the way right toward the back of the house and in the direction of the backyard Harry’d seen him disappear to. It’s what his mind is telling him to do right now. There’s just so much that Harry feels they still need to talk about. He _can’t_ move on without talking about them. And he’s fully convinced this is a good idea even as his shoulder hits the sliding door on the way outside.

There’s only about four boys scattered about the area; Jack, Aaron, Kenneth—and Louis, who’s sat against the bench where the dumbbells sit upon the grass nearby, sunglasses clad over his eyes. Harry doesn’t know if he’s about to do what the rest of the boys are doing right now and get a little mid-day workout in (the others are lifting weights, performing push-ups and whatnot), or if he’s just here to enjoy the air as he rests his head back and lets the freshness of outside tousle his hair different ways.

Harry doesn’t even say a word as he walks over and just gets in the boy’s lap. He gets an easy leg over him and sits there, his knees on the seat on either side of him as Louis’ lifting his head in reaction, probably bearing loud, confused eyes behind his sunglasses.

“What are you doing.”

“That’s not you.” Harry’s very confident of himself when he says it, hunched over with his face close to Louis’ as he simply shakes his own head in defiance.

“Excuse me?”

“Not caring about me, wanting to hurt me, being an evil piece of crap—none of that’s _you_ ,” Harry tells him, jabbing his finger in the boy’s chest just as the boy would do to him. “And I know it.”

“And how exactly would you know that?”

“Because you’re the one who wrote me the letter,” Harry replies without missing a beat. He moves his hands forth to hold the sides of the boy’s face and slide his sunglasses back into his hair, just _needing_ to see those gentle blues of his eyes, even though Louis’ less than eager to lock gaze with him right now. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for acting all excited that it might be someone else. I can imagine how that probably made you feel.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Louis says easily, a hand nudging away at Harry’s thigh. “Now could you get off of me?”

“No,” Harry says, lip quivering only slightly as he keeps his hands right where they’re caressing the boy’s face, despite Louis trying to dodge out of his grip. “Louis, I _like_ you. A lot. I…I know you agreed to the whole fake relationship thing so you could have sex with me, but.” Even the mention of such words get Harry a bit caught at the throat, ignoring the stinging in his eyes. “But you started to grow feelings for me. I know it. You started to regret your intentions I _remember_ you trying to tell me! So, I don’t—I don’t fucking _care_ about any of that, just look at me. And tell me the truth. How you genuinely feel towards me. How you have feelings for me like I have feelings for you.”

No words are said for a moment, but Harry stays just as determined and close as his heart yearns for the boy to say it. To seal up that part of Harry that’d begun to open up like a hole the boy’d left behind.

“How could you not care about any of that.” Louis’ tone is monotonous, his eyes now only trained on Harry’s chest, and the boy overall less fidgety and eager to get Harry off of him.

“Because I just _don’t_ ,” Harry says expressively. “It’s in the past—and I _know_ that’s not what our situation ended as—just a failed attempt at having sex with me. I _know_ it, Louis, I believe in my heart that’s not what happened between us.”

Harry’s searching the boy’s eyes with his, although Louis’ still not looking back at him in the same intense way. It’s even gone quite quiet from the other boys Harry’d seen out here, Harry guessing they’re being a bit nosy right now, but he doesn’t _care_.

Then suddenly, Louis’ eyes are moving just the inch upwards to meet his, although they’re a bit dark in tone, as Harry’s are impassioned and glistening right back at him.

“You want the truth,” he asks bluntly.

“I don’t want a _lie_.”

Even though Harry’s given him the green light to speak his mind, he still isn’t opening his _mouth_ with it like Harry needs him to. It’s even looking like it’s taking a lot out of him as his eyes are closing for a moment, his head resting back against the bench with exhaustion and allowing Harry’s hands to slide down to cradle around his neck.

“Everyone get _out_!” is what he’s yelling as his eyes are closed and his head is still resting back. “Fucking _out!_ Now!”

The demanding nature of it is something that startles Harry a bit, still staying put right where he is and hoping he’s right in thinking Louis’ not referring to him. He looks over his shoulder with dumb blinking eyes as the other boys are dispersing, waving the boy off lazily and entering back into the frat house, and he’s turning his eyes back to Louis. He watches the boy’s head sway to watch them leave, all the way up until they slide the door closed behind them.

His head languidly, with a gentle slowness, swings back forth to face Harry, a sort of tilt to his gaze as their eyes meet, and Harry feels like he’s finally looking at him for the first time in a while. It even pulls at his heart a bit.

Louis’ taking in another deep breath before his words are spoken. 

“I get that you forgive me, but that’s because you’re you,” Louis begins, their eyes locked. “You see the good in everyone and you have this forgiving fucking nature of yours, and wouldn’t even kill a spider that bites you, but—Harry. The thing is, as much as you forgive me, I can’t forgive myself. And that’s why I’ve been staying away from you.”

Harry’s caught with a lack of words as he’s still having his fingertips against the skin of the boy’s neck, the boy’s legs drawing up only slightly to bring Harry in closer, despite the things that he’s just said.

“I can’t forgive myself and then get to have you,” Louis tells him. “Just…I can’t.”

“Let’s start over,” Harry says, a hopeful nature to his voice as he lets his fingers brush over the boy’s cheek. “Act like it never even happened.”

“I can’t.”

“We can start fresh and _new_ ,” Harry continues, his eyes wondrous and his forehead coming down to meet the boy’s as his eyes close. “Hi my name is Harry, what’s yours.”

“Harry…”

“Look,” Harry starts, head still rested there and his eyes still blissfully shut, little tufts of the boy’s hair felt against his skin. He lifts a hand in order to let it run down the boy’s collar bone, towards his shoulder and starting down his arm, just enjoying this closeness since he’s not sure how much longer he’ll have it. “I’m really, really… _really_ into you, Louis.” It sounds just a bit pained, which Harry can’t control. “And I don’t know when’s the next time I’ll feel this way about anybody again.”

He takes a moment to sit there and breathe the boy in, Louis gentle in his breaths and bringing Harry to barely open his eyes in order to gaze downward at Louis’ lips, his hand having made its way down to tenderly caress the boy’s wrist.

“I feel the same way.” 

It’s said so quietly, so soft and subtle that it shakes Harry up just a bit. Yes, he’d been saying the same thing, but he wasn’t expecting Louis to verbally just _proclaim_ it like that, his head pressing a bit more into Harry’s and their noses brushing as Harry finally gets his hand in his and tries to interlock their fingers. Harry nudges his head forth, their lips brushing over each other just barely and Harry getting fully lost in this entrancing moment.

“But you have to go,” Louis tells him, despite Harry raising their interlocked fingers and bringing it to his chest.

“Mmm-mm,” Harry responds with, shaking his head as they stay close and intimate.

“Please just make this easy Harry, _please_?” Louis tells him, nudging himself out of a trance and letting his head hang. “That’s what I was trying to do with leaving you alone.”

“ _No_ ,” Harry hisses, slumping forward with his head in the crook of the boy’s neck, already growing warm with how comfortable it feels right in there. “I’m not going _anywhere_ without you, Louis Tomlinson!”

He’s wholly unprepared for it when he’s suddenly being scooped up by his thighs and lifted into the air, Louis seeming to be trying to get to his feet in order to manually put Harry on the ground, even though Harry is clinging to him like glue.

“You of all people should know when I care about things, I care about things _really hard_!” Harry shouts into his shoulder, Louis uselessly trying to nudge him down as Harry has his arms and legs fully wrapped around him. “I care about animals, I care about saving the planet, and I care about _you_ , Louis! I can’t leave you.”

Louis pushes at his legs with enough fervor for Harry to relinquish his legs to the ground, and Louis’ way too quick in scrambling for a hold of both of Harry’s arms so that they’re not around him, simply grabbing them in front of himself and looking Harry pointedly in the eye.

“Get a grip,” Louis tells him, a serious air to his tone and gaze.

“ _No!”_ Harry yells, nearly whining. Just slightly past Louis’ head can Harry see a lot of the frat boys having gathered near the window, just watching it all go down like a climax scene in the movie theatre. The only thing missing is popcorn. “I want your poetry, and your skateboarding, and your drawings, drawings of _me,_ and just—everything about you, I _want_ it.”

Harry makes a point to literally sit himself down on the grass, bringing his knees up nicely and making his defiance known.

“Seriously?” Louis asks, now sounding more exasperated as he crosses his arms and blinks hard down at the boy.

“Seriously. I’m not going anywhere until you draw me!”

An involuntary squeal is let out of his mouth when Louis’ reaching down to swipe up one of Harry’s legs, Harry flailing onto his back and suddenly finding himself being pulled against the grass, the dirt probably infesting his hair and jacket as he _still_ kicks and screams and demands that Louis draws him and that he’s absolutely not going anywhere until it happens.

“I want to be _boyfriends_ again!” Harry’s whining, Louis still dragging him along and being seen shaking his head.

He only drags Harry until he’s all the way up to where the step would’ve led inside the frat house, Harry’s leg dropping back down to the ground and Harry crossing his arms over himself in victory, because clearly, the boy’s given up.

It’s when he’s sitting himself up that he’s a bit caught off guard, because Louis seems to be heading right into the frat house, seeming as though he’s going to fetch something. Even all the boys (including Zayn) that have sort of gathered as a crowd around the window turn over their shoulders to watch him walk through the house, looking at him with puzzled faces.

Harry’s cloudiness is pacified when Louis’ coming back into view again, stalking towards the backyard, but this time, holding something large in front of himself on either side. 

And Harry’s going cloudy-headed once again when he sees what it is that he’s holding. Because it’s one of his large sketch posters. A drawing on one of his large sketch posters. It’s just like many of the drawings Harry’d admired in his room that night. Except Harry doesn’t remember seeing this one.

Because it’s a drawing of him.

Once Louis’ taken a step down from the house in order to come face to face with Harry on the grass, Harry’s staring at a drawing of himself, sketched beautifully and leaving Harry awestruck as he’s interpreting himself as a floating majestic head in a sea of flowers. Harry doesn’t even know what Louis used as _reference_. All he knows is that his lips part on their own accord and he kind of gets lost in the absurdity of it, how he’s almost convinced this isn’t real right now. What he’s staring at is something right out of his dreams.

“Yeah, for things I _absolutely_ don’t want people to see, I hide them pretty good. Started and finished this the day after I slept over at your dorm,” Louis tells him, not a trace of humor in his tone as he stays squatting where he is and holding the poster. “Said you won’t leave until I draw you? Well here it is.”

Harry’s lips are parting, a breath being drawn in whilst he’s torn between looking at the drawing and at Louis’ pair of beauteous eyes right above it. “Louis…I—“

“Just please, Harry,” Louis begins, and this time, the sheer sincerity of it, the emotion behind his tone moves Harry’s insides. He can even see it in the boy’s eyes that look directly into his, bloodshot in a small way and emotionally desperate. “ _Go._ ”

Harry stays planted in the grass, not because he’s still so adamant about being a romantic pest, but because he’s a bit whiplashed right now in response to the drawing. The time in which Louis drew it—when Harry’d asked the boy to draw him, Louis had already _done_ it. _Finished_ it.

Louis seems to be done waiting on him, however, because soon he’s just dropping the drawing down on the grass and rising to his feet, while uttering the words “Jeff, Avery”.

And… _no_. He didn’t think Louis would stoop to this level.

The boys have a thing where, for any reason, and at any time, Jeff and Avery (the largest guys in the house by miles), can be called to physically remove anyone from the house that a frat brother sees fit. No other brother in the house can veto it, or fight against it, and they’re also only allowed to use it very rarely. It’s some sort of brotherly thing, Harry guesses, one where they want to eject anyone from their house that’s disturbing the peace enough in order to bring someone to actually want to use it. He’s only seen it happen with intruders from rival frats, ex girlfriends who are stirring up trouble, and once, even a visiting parent, but to _Harry?_

Harry can’t even think about it before he’s met with Jeff and Avery coming over to physically put him out. Even as Harry demands to be put down, he has no use against fighting the both of them as they’re gripping at his biceps and lifting him away fairly easily. Harry’s feeling manhandled and betrayed as his feet are fully in the air and he’s screaming the boy’s name over his shoulder. He even calls out to _Zayn_ as he’s being ejected out of the frat house against his own will, but all he receives from the boy is a solemn shake of his head, probably because he can’t actually do anything about it, but also maybe because he feels this is what’s best for him.

So Harry finds himself out on the sidewalk and under the sun where they had gently put him down far in front of the frat house, the both of them having gone back in through the front door and closed it with an actual lock of the entrance this time.

Harry’s incredulity and dropped jaw still have not subsided, especially as he’s currently sat on his butt out in daylight after having been _kicked out_ of the frat house.

He can’t believe he’d gotten _kicked out_ of the frat house.

And he also can’t believe that, for Louis to succumb to such measures, he must be pretty serious about how…this can’t happen.

And that hurts. Brutally.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Harry can’t sleep.

Although he’d discovered that a while ago, ever since, he has still been trying to conjure up random ways to busy and tire and distract himself into sleep so that he can just _forget_ about all of this.

He can’t make Louis want to take the leap with him. Sure, everything points to it, and Harry can’t understand _why_ two people who like each other so much should be apart, but Harry can’t force the boy to see things his way. All he’ll have to do is try to forget about it, even though right now it seems like that may never happen.

He’s working on what is probably his fifth environmental poster to put up around campus, using his markers, and his glitter, and his tiny fuzzy balls, and his colorful posters, since Earth Day _is_ coming up (in several months), and making artsy signs has always gotten his mind off of things. Especially since he’s already done all his homework, looked over his homework again, cleaned up his bedroom to perfection, and baked a late night cobbler. It’s actually nearing five a.m. right now, as much as Harry’s trying not to acknowledge the sun coming up through his closed blinds.

The only thing that _does_ get Harry to turn his dubious eyes toward the blinds is the sound of something faint. There have been numerous sounds Harry’s shrugged off through this long night of no sleep and working himself tirelessly, including noisy dorm building peers, a false fire alarm that was short lived, and even his own _thoughts_ , but this sound is…different. Different in the sense that it instantly catches his attention in the midst of writing out the decorative letters on a new poster.

It’s music.

But not just any type of music. It picks at Harry so instantly because it’s the reggae-ska persuasion of genre that he almost always makes sure he falls asleep to. Obviously, it didn’t work tonight, but usually it does. 

It currently plays very hushedly and faint somewhere outside and below Harry’s fourth story window.

Harry drops his marker on the desk and scoots his rolling chair back in order to approach his window, feeling endlessly bewildered and reaching for the frilly curtain in order to push it to the side. What he sees past the shine of the windows stops his breath almost completely.

Because it’s Louis.

And not only is it Louis, but he’s holding a radio, high and over his head, seeming as though he’s not quite sure which room is Harry’s as he stands with reluctance and rotates every few seconds. Harry’s very close to believing he’s somehow hallucinating.

Harry’s quickly moving in order to push the window all the way up, although it takes a lot of effort from him as he groans through it. This seems to finally get Louis’ attention as he turns towards Harry’s window fully, as though he now knows which room is the correct one.

The wind is blowing Harry’s hair around gently once he’s got himself half out of the window, hands braced against the window sill as he simply keeps his gaze cast upon the boy down below with enchanted eyes. This feels very much like a fairytale moment as they don’t say anything, but Harry’s keeping his mouth closed out of an uncertainty of what may be happening.

“I couldn’t sleep,” is all Louis says, raising his voice just enough for Harry to hear, although Harry would’ve heard him anyway since the morning is young and perfectly quiet.

Harry’s eyes are filled with what could only be described as a gloomy happiness as his fingers go white with tension against the window sill. “Neither could I.”

Harry leans one of his elbows against the sill, sort of sinking into the moment as he rests his cheek in his fist. “End of times, it must be. Thought my music sucked ass, Louis.”

“Louis?” the boy’s suddenly asking, now setting the radio down at his feet on the grass as it continues to fill the air with these reggae lullabies that make everything feel surreal. “How do you know my name?”

Harry’s parting his lips just a bit, taken aback as his eyebrows draw together, but when he can see the miniscule curvature of Louis’ mouth from here, he starts to get it. Or at least he hopes he starts to get it.

They’re starting over.

“I’ve admired you for a while,” Harry tells him, speaking through a smile. “We took a Spanish class together and I always thought you were cool. My name is Harry.”

“Well, um… _Harry_ ,” Louis begins, Harry laughing while the boy is using air quotes around his name. “I know it’s five in the morning, but. You wanna hang out?”

Harry’s beaming at the boy one last time, Louis’ growing vibrant smile being felt like a sunbeam all the way from here, and then he’s ducking his head back in and moving with purpose in order to leave out of his dorm room, not even caring that he’s only got socks on his feet. He doesn’t even take the elevator because he doesn’t want to _wait_. He’s like a shaking ball of contained energy as he flies down the stairs with his luminous teeth almost making a crack in his face.

Although Harry’d initially been instilled with an eager, jumpy happiness, once he’s stepping out of the front entrance of his dorm building, coming down the stairs as he’s seeing Louis not too far on the grass, radio by his feet and grey, wrinkled sleepwear upon him as he messes with his fingers almost nervously, Harry’s happiness is more calm, and starry-eyed this time around as his steps are slowing. He’s just becoming overwhelmed with the emotions of it all while the sky is a purplish orange and most of everyone is asleep on campus around them.

“Although I don’t really know you, Harry,” Louis begins, joining his hands in front of himself as Harry’s approaching him, the grass being felt a bit damp under his socks. Louis appears to be struggling to make eye contact, which makes sense because this entire sappy segment is not something he’s known to ever even want to _witness,_ let alone do. 

But eventually his eyes are there, sweet like cinnamon and diving into Harry’s, the boy looking like something right out of a painting as the sun is barely coming up behind him.

“I’d love to get to know you,” Louis tells him, Harry coming within two feet of him and feeling his bottom lip shaking as his eyes grow wide. “And everything that makes you excited. And why you love the moon so much, and all the shit you’re passionate about in this world. I'd love to figure out why I’m addicted to having my fingers stroking through your hair while you fall asleep. I'd love to tell you I'm sorry, and let you know that you don't ever… _ever_ have to change. I…I just wanna…” He gestures uselessly with his hand, the other in his hair as he struggles to find the words, and all Harry does is barely nod his head toward the boy and give him all the time in the world to speak, especially since his own eyes are filling to the brim with emotion and he’s too soul-stirred to say anything coherent himself.

“I wanna hold onto the rare occurrence of a person meaning as much to me as you do. It makes me feel human,” Louis tells him, his small grin showing as Harry curves his lips right back and brings a finger up to his own eye in order to wipe the premature tear away. “So. What d'ya say?”

The only thing that delays Harry response is the effortless, heavenly breath he lets out as though he’d been trying to emotionally hold himself together, before he’s breathing the words out excitedly. “I love it.”

He’s closing the two foot space in front of Louis, wasting no time in getting his arms around the boy and then bringing his legs up carefully in order to wrap them tightly around the boy, the boy quickly holding him in place up under his legs and at his hips as though it’s second nature by now. Harry fits perfectly.

Harry’s peppering the boy’s face with kisses, making his love marks upon his cheeks, and his nose, and the area between his eyes, and his chin, and his lips, because God, Harry loves his lips. And even as Louis had tried to shy away from all the saccharine pecks, he definitely doesn’t budge once their lips are locking, Harry feeling like he’s living a real life dream as he kisses Louis while being lifted in his arms. No one can convince him they aren’t the only two awake on earth right now.

“Okay, but—“ Louis begins, Harry interrupting him again with a kiss. “I have to get this radio back to Aaron, because I took it without asking.”

“Of course you did,” Harry says with a giggle, hopping down from Louis with his feet on the ground again, but not helping himself from going back in for a kiss with his arms still braced on the boy’s shoulders, Louis not fighting it as he locks an arm around Harry’s lower waist.

“For our first date I’m thinking breakfast on a roof while the sun comes up—we’ll have to find an open roof though,” Harry murmurs against his lips, cupping a hand behind the boy’s neck and going into pucker his lips against Louis’ again. “I can make heart shaped pancakes!”

“Oh, you wanna do all that right _now_?” Louis asks, Harry stepping back on his heel and still caressing the boy’s face and neck nonetheless. “I was just gonna do the whole radio thing and then see if I can finally get some sleep.”

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry presses disapprovingly, although he can’t keep the grin off of his face because he should’ve expected that. “This has been brewing for so _long_. Don’t you wanna just _jump_ into it?” He’s saying this as he’s inching forth again to get his nose rubbed against Louis’, his dimples permanent on both of his cheeks, especially when Louis’ twirling a strand of his hair between his fingers.

Although Harry would’ve gone back in for a kiss anyway since he just can’t help it, it’s Louis who seals the space between them again, Harry complaisant and easily opening his mouth to the boy as though nothing else matters, _because_ nothing else matters. Their sweet kisses happen with such a lack of rush and urgency that Harry’s getting his legs right back up around the boy, Louis laughing into his mouth when he’s spinning him around, the both of them keeping their lips latched snugly.

“Getting some sleep together can be a perfect first date,” Louis’ murmuring against his lips, the bright smile being heard in his voice before Harry can even open his eyes to see it, Harry gently getting his feet back into the grass.

Harry stays close and in tune with him for a moment, just caressing through the hair on the back of the boy’s head and towards his neck, taking the time to admire his existence and be grateful that he’s somehow been made to stumble into him. That he’d been so _lucky_.

“Anything you want,” Harry breathes.

Louis appears to get a little too caught up in how overly sweet everything is, gently nudging Harry’s face away with his own as he moves past him and towards the radio that’s in the grass, Harry _still_ disbelieving at the fact that the boy did such a grand gesture.

“You’re an angel right out of the sky, and I hate it,” Louis’ saying matter-of-factly as he’s swiping the radio up by the handle.

“No, you _love_ it.” He’s punching and prying at the boy’s arm once he’s skipping up to him, the both of them moving to walk in the direction of the frat house whilst the sun is still yet to be fully in the air.

“I will not confirm nor deny any feelings of _love_ right now.”

Despite his words, Harry still pokes at him with the bubbly energy he can no longer contain, Louis shoving him away even though everything in his dreamlike eyes and artistically curved mouth and tender touches indicate he doesn’t want Harry anywhere but close to him.

And while their fingers are sliding together and they're coming palm to palm, Harry’s grateful that they’re finally on the exact same page with that one. 


End file.
